


The Consequences Of Free Will

by true_blue_sheila



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Arielle - remember who you are..., Arielle Potter, BAMF Arielle, BAMF Originals, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Ghosts, Magic & Mythology, Manipulative Dumbledore, Minor AU, Minor Weasley Bashing, Multi, Reincarnation, Spirits, Will update characters and tags as the story progresses, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 132,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3093782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/true_blue_sheila/pseuds/true_blue_sheila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was victorious - on her own terms. She would bow before no man – ever. They tried to burn away her Will – but she rose from the ashes, stronger than before. Now, Arielle Potter must once more break free from the shackles of Fate. But how much pressure is one person expected to be able to bear before she cracks under the strain? Even if she is The-Girl-Who-Lived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, no-one and nowhere. The Vampire Diaries belong to L.J. Smith, the CW T.V. Network and all associated producers and directors thereof. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling - long may she reign - and Warner Bros. Studios
> 
> Okay people, for this chapter, both of my warnings do apply. It's a medieval battle scene, and people (and creatures) tend to die pretty horribly in those, considering the armaments of the time - swords, knives, crossbows and such do make a bit of a gory mess when they come into contact with fragile human flesh . . . so . . . if you are a bit sensitive to that kind of thing, this chapter may not be for you. For all others, have fun reading my fic and I hope you enjoy my twisted little tale :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can we ever really escape our past? Even in our dreams?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First fanfic - very nervous!!!  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, no-one and nowhere. The Vampire Diaries belong to L.J. Smith, the CW T.V. Network and all associated producers and directors thereof. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling – long may she reign – and Warner Bros. Studios

_She could feel the Otherness, everywhere, it surrounded her, and it was within her. It whispered to her without words, but she could feel it inside her soul ~~–~~ a primal, ancient consciousness that no mortal being could truly comprehend. She welcomed it now as it wound its way through her, where she ended and the Other began was no longer clear, they were One. _

_Never before could she have brought herself to allow this ~~–~~ she had ever chosen the path of freedom, spurning all attempts of others to define her, guide her or bind her to their idea of who she should be . . . of how she should live her life. She practised her magic as she willed, defended her right to independence and privacy fiercely in the face of those who would name her unnatural and defiant. She was but a girl, they claimed ~~–~~ a helpless female with no kin to look out for her welfare. _

_Her ability to see to her own protection had been proven to her own satisfaction, and to their great chagrin, many times over but still they persisted. They urged her to seek fostering with any number of families prepared to take over her welfare ~~–~~ she had only to choose which she preferred ~~–~~ and who would afford her shelter and care. _

_In time, as she came of age, the head of her household would offer her hand in marriage to a suitable husband, and she would have the opportunity to raise a family of her own. Her reaction to such_ generosity _was unequivocal, she had openly disdained the very idea of bowing to the authority of males ~~–~~ she trusted so few people as it was, and her past experiences hardly encouraged a great deal of faith in humanity . . . let alone the males of the breed. _

_Their society placed so much power into the hands of men ~~–~~ too much. She had seen for herself that they could so easily abuse their authority over the women and children in their charge, and rarely did any intervene or even offer as much as a token protest. No, she would never allow herself to be so vulnerable. Her accomplishments along with her mistakes were her own, she took responsibility for both, and any decisions regarding the course of her life would not be left to others to make for her. _

_And her choices had led her to this, the moment where she understood everything. The gods who watched over the destiny of mankind did not see the need to compel anyone into a path not of their own design. It was always a choice as to how one met and reacted to the circumstances that they faced in the mortal lifespan they were granted on this earth._   
_Free Will._

_She had chosen to embrace her fate and offer herself to the kiss of steel, the release of flame. A willing sacrifice to save those who could be saved, a chance to be resurrected a final time with the strength to oppose the ones who sought power that was not theirs to take, to control others through fear and suffering._

_For a moment, the faces of the ones lost to her flashed through her mind ~~–~~ their lives forsaken in a pointless, savage conflict ~~–~~ her family and her friends. In that moment she would have fallen to her knees and wailed her torment, screamed it to the very heavens ~~–~~ but it was time. Time to end this, but, oh, if only they knew, it was just the beginning. _

_Truly, they knew her not, to think that she would ever be defeated so easily ~~–~~ fools. _

* * *

_She sensed more than saw the flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. Instinctively she pivoted smoothly toward it with her arm simultaneously swinging down and across her torso in a swift arc. Her attacker released a high-pitched yowl that trailed off into an ugly, choked gurgle. His blood sprayed across her arm and face, the sword in her hand striking true. Slumped at her feet, the body of the wolf was limp and lifeless. Lingering only long enough to be certain of its demise she moved on through the mayhem, searching for her true enemies, the ones she sought to entrap with their own short-sightedness and ambitions ~~–~~ their greed would be their undoing. _

_Ever onwards she swept through the melee, pausing only to engage assailants in combat, by magic or steel her enemies fell before her. Finally she had broken free of the clashing mob, taking the opportunity to breathe deeply, preparing herself._

_Not much longer now. Out here, in the open, seemingly exposed and vulnerable, as she stood alone without the cover of the horde, she knew that they would find her rather than the other way around. So much the better, she thought, let them seek her out to finish it. She only needed one ~~–~~ for where one went, the other followed close behind. _

_Finally taking note of where she was, she saw the wooden scaffold used to restrain him for the ritual ~~–~~ empty now. They had cursed him, bound his power to blood, stone and moon. His own brother had helped to render him helpless and vulnerable, as he begged and pleaded for them to stop, for mercy. There was none. There never had been, not for him, not for any of the lost. _

_He was there, standing with his siblings in front the post he had been tied to, with the shredded remnants of his bonds trailing from the wooden frame. All five watched on with horror (and an odd, predatory hunger) at the bloodshed before them. Her mouth curled in contempt, of course they would not intervene, after all, how could they possibly pick a side in this battle? She angled her head to survey the fight behind her ~~–~~ wolves snarling fiercely through bloodstained muzzles, blades and teeth and claws rending flesh as men and women screamed in rage and pain, magic cast in all directions as they battled on. _

_The hatred and resentment that had been building between the clans had finally boiled over, after the recent violence. Attacks led on entire villages by bands of outlaws during the night, innocent travellers set upon ~~–~~ assaulted, robbed and murdered ~~–~~ in the woods, while young girls and women would seemingly vanish, only to be found hours or even days later, violated and near-broken, unable or unwilling to describe their assailant(s). _

_Their families were left to nurse the wounded in the aftermath, shocked and grieving for those who had been lost. Their sorrow had become outrage, swiftly turning to fury, as they called for justice, demanding that the criminals who had caused such harm should answer for their sins. War, it seemed, was inevitable._

_Turning back to find them watching her now ~~–~~ even amidst the chaos their instincts were uncanny ~~–~~ she regarded them coldly as they began to move in her direction. The expression on her face must have warned them off, for they froze in their tracks. Their eyes showed confusion ~~–~~ why would she, of all people, look at them like that? _

_Why, indeed?_

_All of them were so distinctly different from the others, yet each possessed that undeniable, inhuman allure._

_The oldest was a tall, lean male in his prime. His severely masculine face, dark wavy brown hair and intense, pale green eyes made him quite popular with the young women in the village, married or not. But his naturally quiet and serious manner made him seem standoffish, and disinclined to mingle with others._   
_Finn._

_The second brother stood with his broad shoulders squared and tense, struggling with the conflicting urges within him. On the one hand, it suited him ill to stand aside and simply watch such carnage unfold. On the other, he was loath to leave his brothers' and sister's sides. Ever protective of those he loved, his watchful dark-hazel eyes viewed the fight before him warily from a strong, angular face framed with shoulder-length near-black hair._   
_Elijah._

_The next brother was a sharp contrast to his older siblings' dark leanness, with his brown-blond curls falling past his broad shoulders. Muscular and sturdy, his blue-grey eyes were still glassy from the effects of the binding magic that suppressed his true self. The handsome, almost pretty face was set in harsh lines, revealing his anguished emotions._   
_Niklaus._

_The fourth was the tallest of all the brothers, slender yet steely with an untidy mane of brunette hair that tumbled over his forehead. He had a face that was well-matched to the rakish grin and puckish expression that he habitually wore, the dark brown eyes dancing with impish glee, with his wide forehead, high cheekbones and sharply pointed chin. Right now, though, his visage expressed only a terrible rage. Fists clenched hard at his sides, the knuckles blanched white, giving a clear indication of his displeasure, but he remained unmoving, a silent witness to murder and betrayal._   
_Kol._

_The lone female seemed almost delicate when viewed alongside her brothers. She was slender and pretty, with large blue eyes and long blonde curls that swung as she turned to Elijah, perhaps begging him, or any of them, to intercede. She made no move to enter the fray herself, despite her own strength and skill with weapons ~~–~~ learned in secret, as her father did not approve of women fighting their own battles. She was ever cosseted and coddled by her family as the only surviving girl, her brothers ever eager to leap to her defence, so perhaps it was little wonder that she did not rush into battle on her own initiative._   
_Rebekah._

_Her rage climbed to new heights as she watched them simply stand there like statues, seemingly indifferent to the slaughter going on around them. Such a picture they presented to outsiders, their bonds with each other strong and unbroken._

_Hah! She knew better._

_Already, this gruesome and tragic night had seen them fall apart ~~–~~ betraying one of their own out of fear and weakness. Her fingers flexed on the hilt of her sword as she stepped toward them with utter contempt written plainly on her exotic features. They recoiled from her wrath, but it did little to allay her disgust. _Cowards _._

_Before she could speak, vent her fury, her senses stirred in alarm. She felt his approach from behind just before the blade appeared from her lower stomach. There was no pain, not yet, only a dull coldness in the pit of her womb where she was pierced through. Her limbs were suddenly numb, she felt as though the sword she grasped had suddenly trebled in weight, a heavy burden pulling her arm downwards until the tip dug into the earth before her frozen fingers fumbled to release it._

_Rebekah gasped in alarm, her hand flying to her mouth in shock at the sudden attack. The others seemed stunned into stillness, their eyes widening in disbelief before Kol screamed out, “No. NO! Father, please!”_

_An eerie chuckle ghosted past her ear, causing her to shudder in disgust at his closeness. How she hated him, with all his malice and unfounded pride. He was an arrogant bully, undeserving of the trust that others had placed in him. He ruled his household with an iron fist, dominating and controlling his children's lives completely._

_Finn, Elijah, Niklaus and Kol, to say the very least, were more than of age to have long since moved out from under his roof, to establish homes and families of their own. And Rebekah, their daughter, even if she was not yet married, should have at least had the prospect of a betrothal by now, if not actually engaged to be wed. And yet, no one dared to raise their voice in question, it appeared that everyone was content to go along, for fear of provoking Mikael's wrath._

_And his wife, Esther, was no better ~~–~~ truly, their union was conceived in hell, and consecrated by darkness. Now though, it was him wielding the sword that cut through her ~~–~~ he that laughed cruelly at their distress at his assault on her. He bent down to whisper in her ear, ignoring her cringe. “Such loyalty you inspire, creature, even from mine own children. Of course, monsters do band together after all, I suppose I should not be so surprised.” He lifted his face to sneer at them smugly, knowing perfectly well that their superior hearing had picked up his soft tones effortlessly, as he continued to taunt them all, speaking a little louder now, “Though I had hoped that they would remember where their true allegiance belongs – with their family, with their _blood _. . .”_

_Finn and Elijah began to run at him, whether seeking to prevent further harm to her or to aid him in his murderous intent ~~–~~ it no longer mattered. His hand grasped her upper arm tightly as he withdrew the sword at the same time. _Now _it hurt, feeling the blade twist in her flesh, as he yanked it free with brutal force and spun her around to face him, glaring down at her in triumph. Their mutual loathing was evident as she stared him down, undaunted by the pain. Vaguely aware of the battle around them slowly dying away, as more and more of the combatants stopped to watch this clash of titans in their midst ~~–~~ warrior versus witch, immortal vampire against mortal human, the large, powerful male facing off with the smaller, seemingly fragile female ~~–~~ she bared her teeth at him in defiance. _

_She felt the blood flowing freely from the terrible wound in her abdomen, staining her tunic and breeches. Barely breathing, her eyes spat hatred as he raised the sword above his head to strike once more. The blade descended, biting into her chest, as he thrust with inhuman speed and strength, the razor-sharp tip tearing through her ribcage and into her heart. There was an unnatural hush in the clearing, no one moved or spoke, watching on, paralysed, as he released the hilt and stepped back._

_Such a tiny thing she seemed as she stood there alone, all eyes fixed upon her. Her mocha-toned skin spoke of her diverse ancestry ~~–~~ her mother's people had hailed from the deserts of Egypt. From her father, a native son of Al-Andalus, she had inherited her bright golden hair and startling green eyes. _

_Her back straight and unyielding, she was utterly silent, her features impassive as she stared back at him with those piercing eyes. She showed no signs of faltering, of feeling weakness or even acknowledging the savage gash in her abdomen, let alone the sword still thrust within her chest._

_Everyone else around them watched on in varying states of disbelief and anticipation at this clash of wills. As powerful as she was, surely not even this witch could withstand such grievous blows. Then, finally, she sank down to her knees, her eyes still locked unwaveringly with his._

_He smirked, icy blue eyes glittering cruelly, as he opened his mouth to gloat once more, but was cut off when she spoke quietly, “Thank you, Mikael.” It seemed that giving voice to even those few soft words had drained the last of her strength as she slumped back into the arms of Finn as he ran to catch her before she hit the ground._

* * *

_In the sudden flurry caused by the young woman's collapse, several people took the opportunity to slip discreetly into the trees ringing the clearing. They could not help her now, from this moment on it was all in her hands._

_If there were those who happened to gaze back at the clearing wistfully, remembering the ones fallen in battle that remained behind ~~–~~ if there barely stifled sobs and cries of mourning amongst the group as they retreated swiftly ~~–~~ there was reason enough. This had been a night of great loss and sorrow, and it wasn't over yet. _

_The werewolves roaming alongside these mortal witches lifted their noses into the wind, trying to judge the best way to flee. Their foes would come, would hunt them down in revenge for their alliance with the witch, for standing against those responsible for the slaughter perpetrated on this bloody night ~~–~~ but they didn't intend to lay down like sheep in the pastures, meekly awaiting the butcher's blade, though. It wasn't time to face them, not yet. _

_But their time would come, when she returned. Their people, their clans ~~–~~ those who had descended from them that still carried on their faith and traditions ~~–~~ would be ready to play their part once more, to give everything that was needed in the struggle against evil. This was their choice._   
_Free Will._

* * *

_Back in the clearing, Finn ignored the shock on his father's face at her words, barely even noticed it in fact. All his attention was focussed on the girl, held in his lap protectively, desperately, as he whispered, "No, no," repeatedly. Her eyes stared up at him unseeingly, the pain and blood-loss taking over her senses as she slipped away from him, from them. His siblings were there, crouched around her now, denying the evidence of their own eyes ~~–~~ they couldn't lose her! _

_Esther's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as the crowd around her murmured in disquiet. She cast her mind back, recalling the events of the evening. In particular, the memory of the girl standing within the sacrificial circle as she knelt with her head bent and seemed to pray. 'Prayed for what?' Esther wondered._

_No one could know, for the circle had been sealed off by the witch to all outside it. A seal that they had been unable to crack, one that placed a barrier between her and those who sought to stop her, bind her. It also had the ability to keep all sounds from escaping its borders as the lone witch inside chanted and held out her hands to the heavens in entreaty._

_Esther remembered seeing the girl fall suddenly, as though she had been flung to the ground by invisible hands. Even from outside the mystical barrier, Esther could feel the magic that emanated from within ~~–~~ the girl had clearly cast a powerful spell. The girl stood suddenly, raised her head to look about her ~~–~~ her eyes were swirling brightly with the magic she had called, before returning to normal as the enchantment faded. _

_Suddenly, the seal was dropped, but, before anyone could react, she held up her hand and concentrated. Her power flared out, strong and fierce as her sword suddenly appeared, called to her hand with magic. She ran into the fray, wielding both magic and blade with grace and strength as she cut down those that opposed her. Esther lost sight of her after that, absorbed in her own battles with enemy witches and wolves ~~–~~ until Mikael had seen her, and struck from behind. _

_Her mind raced frantically, trying to work out what the other witch had meant ~~–~~ who would ever thank their killer for doing such? Was it simply defiance ~~–~~ the girl unyielding and rebellious to the last? Or was there more at play here? What had the girl prayed for, and apparently received ~~–~~ all these questions circled in her mind with few answers if any being presented. _

_As Esther pondered, Niklaus was sitting by the stricken girl's bent knees, peering worriedly at her rapidly paling face. He watched her lift her eyes to Mikael's face as it twisted in disgust at the scene before him. Her words seemed to echo in the clearing long after the witch herself was silent. 'Thank you, Mikael.' She had not spoken sarcastically, her low tone had been calm and clear, her eyes serious. 'Could she have truly meant it?' the question rippled through the crowd as they huddled and whispered heatedly. Why thank him? All here knew of the contempt she bore for Mikael and Esther, a disdain they returned in full measure._

_It seemed that their bewilderment would not be cleared up just yet, as they watched on, stricken and fascinated by the scene._

_She struggled for breath now as her life-blood seeped into the earth, shutting her mind away from the outpourings of grief as the five who knelt beside her pleaded with her to live ~~–~~ to let them heal her, change her. BAH! Had she not warned them, how could they not see the truth for themselves? They had chosen this path for themselves; she could spare no more compassion or empathy for their pain any more. How many others had suffered, bled and died for their wilful blindness? Now she had become the latest casualty in this war. _

_Opening her eyes (when had she closed them . . . she couldn't remember) as she panted desperately, trying to force the words through her numbed lips, to offer a chance. Flawed beings that they were, she loved them so. She always had._

_How could she not try to save them, to see if they would finally come to comprehend that their salvation was in their own hands?_   
_Free Will._

_“. . .”_

_“What is she trying ~~–~~ ” Kol began to whisper from the right of her. He was holding her hand in his tightly._

_“Shut it and listen!” Klaus hissed from the left._

_“You shut it, I was only ~~–~~ ” Kol shot back before being interrupted again._

_“All of you,_ quiet _!” Finn bared his teeth in a snarl as they flinched back at his sudden display of dominance, and subsided._

_“I . . . shall . . . re-return . . . once. O-on-ly . . . once. Nev-ver . . . ag-gain.” The halting, stuttered words were whispered between increasingly strained wheezing, the barest puffs of sound from her whitened lips. Finn was holding her to him tightly, his head bent over her face as he strained to hear her. He was the closest though the others had crowded around tightly as well, unwilling to be parted from her now. Rebekah was kneeling opposite Kol, holding her left hand, while Elijah was beside him, mirroring Klaus' position by her knees._

_Finn could hear the terrible rattle in her chest, he murmured to her, “Please, please don't do this, we need you.” Denying all that his enhanced senses were telling him, them ~~–~~ they could not only see, but _smell  _more blood spilled around her than remained within her small body now. Her flesh was chilled, stiffening under their touch even as they tried to hold her here to this world ~~–~~ to them ~~–~~ her stricken heart pumping frantically to beat around the impaling steel shaft of their father's sword. _

_A struggle she was steadily losing, the discordant rhythm in their ears slowing and weakening, as she slipped ever closer to death. Her mouth opened wide as her body instinctively, but futilely, attempted to channel more air to her slowly collapsing lungs. She looked at them, stared at them deeply ~~–~~ trying one last time to impart her message, her warning for the future. “. . . Once . . . more . . .” _

_The final word slipped out on an extended exhale of breath as her eyes closed for the last time, and her body stilled. They exhaled with her and held their breath, waiting, waiting for her to inhale once more. They were listening so intently for her breathing to resume, that they almost didn't register what they weren't hearing ~~–~~_ almost _._

_It was Rebekah who eventually let go of the cold little hand she was clutching so desperately in her own to press the shaking palm to the wounded breast under the cruel blade. Her touch only confirmed what her ears had already told her, the faltering heartbeat had ceased. And so the tears fell. She wept unashamedly, mourning her friend as she would a sister. “She's gone.” She stood up, unsteady and shaken, her usual grace deserting her in her grief so that she wavered on her feet. Her piercing gaze, however, was unwavering as she accused, “You killed her.”_

_Her brothers had risen to stand just after she had, and now moved to flank her in a rare show of accord. They stood firmly united against their antagonist ~~–~~ their father, Mikael. _

_A sharply indrawn breath from the, up until then at least, mostly silent gathering around them drew their eyes ~~–~~ it appeared that Mikael would not be the one to speak in his own defence. Rebekah's public outburst of blame (with their tacit endorsement) for the slaying of their friend would apparently be met by their mother, Esther, in Mikael's stead. _

_Whatever it was that Esther had intended to say was lost as a sharp crackling sound erupted behind them. As they spun around, a sight that truly defied belief met their stunned eyes. They witnessed her body bursting into flame ~~–~~ a strange fire burning in hues of green, black, blue and crimson. Yet it was not just the colouring of this blaze that struck them as bizarre ~~–~~ the conflagration's origin appeared to be the point where Mikael's sword met her flesh, tongues of flame glowing silvery-white against her tawny skin. _

_Elijah was the first to react, shouting, “No!” as he leapt forward, perhaps intent on hauling her mortal remains from the fire in order to preserve whatever was left of the girl he had truly cherished, a wise friend, for all her tender years. The fierce heat of the inferno thwarted him, as it grew to engulf her whole body. The sheer intensity of the fire dazzled his eyes; he threw up his arm to block the glare, and turned his face away in defeat. He saw that Niklaus had moved up beside him, his expression torn with frustration and anguish, unable to get any closer. With their eyes struggling to adjust from the brilliance, it took Kol's wondering gasp and subsequent, “Nik, 'Lijah,_ look _,” before they caught on that something else had apparently changed. Kol, Finn and Rebekah stared at the pyre, with identical looks of . . . what, exactly, shock, rapture, enthralment, a mixture of all three, perhaps?_

_Turning, they watched in stupefaction ~~–~~ from within the very heart of the blaze, a shape emerged. A distinctly familiar outline appeared, unnerved and thrilled, they felt their skin prickle in nervous excitement (they knew that symbol . . . intimately ), they watched on as the beak opened and an unearthly melody seemed to arise from the very flames themselves, silvery and sweet as the fire flared higher before descending to a low-pitched purring, almost, as the blaze dulled down ~~–~~ a ~~–~~ _

_“ ~~–~~ PHOENIX!” _

_With such harmonic rapture having just been heard amidst the flames, almost anything else would be dissonant, a harsh come-down afterwards. Esther's shrill cry was definitely not an improvement, especially for those with sensitive ears, Niklaus considered thoughtfully, rubbing the offended organ with the severe misfortune to be facing toward his mother when the damnable harpy had released her mating call. He eyed her with an admittedly large degree of malicious ire, he had neither forgotten nor forgiven her previous measures taken against him this evening . . . this was salt in his wounds._

_She looked around her in a state of raw panic, her sudden realisation completely derailing her usual composure. No one really knew what to do as never before had they seen the poised matron in such a condition ~~–~~ not even when her youngest son was carried back to the village in his older brother's arms, slain by wolves. Her wild, terrified dark eyes finally settled on her husband ~~–~~ and promptly narrowed in wrath. “You FOOL!” she screamed. “She invoked the spirit of the Phoenix! That is why she was chanting for all that time. A prayer offered to the old gods ~~–~~ the primal guardians of the first witches. _

_“You think that you have won by killing her physical body, but you may have doomed us all! If she is reborn, it will be with the power of an Avenger ~~–~~ the spirit of the Phoenix will drive her to seek retribution on those who she believes have wronged her in not just that life, but ALL of her previous incarnations.”_

_She had to stop for breath for a moment and Mikael, whose face had steadily reddened in frustration and ire as her tirade continued on, promptly seized his opportunity to retort, “And what would you have suggested I do, my love?” he raised his brow in mocking inquiry, emphasising the last two words with a subtle jeer before continuing, “Allow her to continue wreaking havoc with the ritual you designed for this night? In case you do not remember, she had to be sacrificed in order for the ritual to truly succeed. That is what YOU told ME.”_

_They glared at each other in silence for a moment before Esther threw up her hands in disgust, gesturing dismissively as she paced. “What's done is done, and cannot be undone,” here she paused to offer her husband a meaningful look before she continued, “None of us had understood before it was too late,_ I _failed to realise what she had planned ~~–~~ the Invocation of Spirit requires a willing sacrifice. The sacrifice must fulfil specific terms in order to achieve the witch's purpose and successfully summon the guardian they have called on ~~–~~ how they present their sacrifice, what they must sacrifice, or even who they choose to actually perform the sacrifice, all these things can play a part. _

_“She has accomplished her task, marking you as her foe,” looking at Mikael, “Along with any who stand with you. Her fate is bound to the Phoenix now. We can do no m ~~–~~ ” Her sudden break in speech and her fixed stare over at the ~~–~~ finally ~~–~~ ebbing pyre alerted Finn first, his narrowed gaze switching to follow the direction of Esther's eyes had the others catching on swiftly. As one, they shifted to see for themselves just what was so mesmerising. Elijah huffed out a shaky breath ~~–~~ she was gone, _vanished _, as if she had never even been here to begin with. There were no scorch marks or even a burnt-out hollow in the grass where the supernatural inferno had blazed._

_The only thing that remained ~~–~~ his eyes widened, then narrowed intently ~~–~~ was his father's sword, lying in the grass as if it had never pierced the breast and heart of an innocent young girl. And yet ~~–~~ it no longer looked like that same blade. He heard his mother inhale, no doubt in preparation to speak, ordering the seizure of the sword by trusted hands ~~–~~ those loyal to his parents, obviously ~~–~~ and he forestalled the declaration by moving, one smooth, rapid _whoosh _that saw him standing over the sword, before he stooped to pluck it up from the ground._

_He stared each of his siblings directly in the eye. He did not speak, simply looked at them. He refused to meet the gazes of Mikael or Esther. He had nothing to say to them, not after this night. The message was clear. He turned and_ blurred _out of the clearing, running as fast as he possibly could away from that cursed place._

_The place where he had lost yet another piece of his innocence tonight, where he still stood to lose everything that even meant anything to him any more. They could refuse to follow him, choose allegiance to their parents over him. He reached another clearing, miles from where he had left them, then waited and prayed. His head snapped around, and his heart shrank a little in his chest as he heard a familiar bellow of rage echoing through the trees from that direction ~~–~~ good gods ~~–~~ was his father sending them to hunt him down now? Or worse, the _werewolves _! His nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought of the putrid creatures ~~–~~ so caught up was he by this repulsive idea that Finn had fled right out of the trees and into the woods beyond him, before he could so much as blink in surprise. _

_Eyes wide, he jumped back in shock, and not a little bit of fear, as Kol bursting from the tree-line into the open coincided with another (was that closer . . . or just louder?) shout from his father. Kol, clearly having heard, poured on more speed than any of them would have previously believed possible without the right motivation, whipping past Elijah with a look on his face that said he didn't know whether to be panicked, or ecstatic, about the crazed thrill of having their raging madman of a sire chasing them all over the wilderness of the New World. Kol was known to be a bit . . . peculiar, at times._

_Elijah was still trying to decide between rolling his eyes, or snorting in disbelief at his younger brother's eccentricities, when Niklaus and Rebekah came crashing through the trees in their blind dash for freedom as Mikael yelled again ~~–~~ he really was starting to get too close for comfort, Elijah thought vaguely ~~–~~ and Elijah was left in absolutely no doubt as to their feelings on the issue. _

_They were outright terrified. Rebekah screeched fearfully to him while she was still clearing the last stand of trees. “Elijah, stop standing around like a bloody statue! RUN!” One quick glance at Niklaus's face affirmed his support of that sentiment, though he was clearly intent on saving his breath, and strength, to flee for dear life. Elijah assuredly needed no further urging, taking to his heels with such speed that one might have thought he flew over the ground rather than touching his feet upon it._

_Another echoing roar from Mikael had Rebekah shrilling out an alarmed yet defiant Valkyric battle-cry even as they ran onwards through the dying night. Their mother had as much as admitted that the witch unlike any other had set herself free from the shackles of this mortal world in her own way ~~–~~ and now it was their turn. They were making their own bid for independence in their new world, she had shown them the way and they only needed to be brave enough to take it._   
_Free Will._

 

****Author's Note: Phew! Hopefully all my re-editing has paid off, and this is now much easier to understand. For those who've already been through this chapter, I hope you enjoyed the new snippets of information. For everyone else, I just hope that you enjoyed it, period.** **

****Please review, and let me know what you think :D** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . good? Bad? Ugly? Please let me know what you think, your thoughts on what I'm writing matter to me - if I'm not doing a good job, tell me. If you like it, I definitely wanna hear it! Cheers, people :D


	2. Chapter 1: A Witch In London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet the family . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Please see first chapter.
> 
> Warnings? Fluff, basically . . . lots and lots of family fluffiness. References to past violence and death, etc, but all non-explicit, don't worry.

Early July 2009 

London, England 

    Arielle started awake with a gasp, throwing off her bed-sheets as she bolted upright, staring about her wildly. Only the familiar surroundings of her room met her eyes as she cast them around, searching for – well, she wasn't sure  _what_  she was looking for, but whatever it was she didn't find it. Everything in her bedroom was just as it had been the previous night before she went to sleep. Shaking her head with an inward snort, she lay back down staring at the ceiling with a derisive smirk tugging at her lips. What had she expected to find – her dream world magically brought to life in her bedroom complete with medieval dress and weaponry?

    Although, as she flashed back mentally to her strange – dream? Nightmare? – that had seemed so real, as though she had truly lived through the whole experience with all those people, she rather thought that their mode of clothing and arms had been a bit earlier even than that. Possibly the dark ages. Their speech and mannerisms were reminiscent of North-Eastern Europe, yet the landscape did not appear to support that premise. What she had envisaged was a wild and raw land much like the history texts that she had studied in school, the ones depicting the early pre-Columbus settlement of the New World.

    Any further introspection was interrupted by a quiet knock on her door as Andromeda – or Andra as she preferred to be known amongst family – called through the thick oaken barrier. "Ari? I hope you're awake, because I do not believe that you are going to be permitted to sleep in much longer this morning." The humour in her voice was obvious, even muffled by the door, as Arielle grinned mischievously over to where she imagined Andra would be standing just beyond it. Though it was still early judging by the muted sunlight falling through her window, Ari had a suspicion that no one in the household would be sleeping much past dawn anyway – and why should they? After all, it wasn't everyday that a certain young boy came home for the summer holidays after his first year at school.

    "I'm awake, Andra," she called out cheerfully, as she climbed out of bed to head for her en-suite bathroom. "You may tell His Highness that I'll be down for breakfast in about twenty minutes, alright?"

    "Not a problem for me, sweetheart. Teddy, on the other hand . . ."

    Ari chuckled richly as she walked into the bathroom, hearing Andra's receding footsteps as she moved away from the door, presumably going downstairs to the dining room to wait for her – and to let Teddy know that she was now awake. Quickly stripping off, she twisted the faucets and heard the steamy  _whoosh_  as the shower jets erupted with a heated spray of water. She  _loved_  magic she thought happily, as she stepped in to the roomy stall and closed the glass partition behind her. Runes for hot and cold inscribed on the corresponding taps meant an instantaneous rush of water at the perfect temperature, without having to wait.

    Just as well, because Teddy was unlikely to take kindly to any sort of delay, no matter how justifiable. Time spent on cleansing and clothing oneself for the day ahead was time wasted according the Law Of Teddy, she thought fondly – he was active and impatient, and would happily spend his days as naked and soiled as the day he was born if he thought he could get away with it. Smirking at the mental image, Ari dismissed the possibility entirely, knowing Andromeda would have a nervous breakdown at the very idea – Andra was not a prude, but she did have her mind set on How Things Should Be. Reluctantly shutting off the taps once she was fresh and clean, she stepped back out of the shower to dry off briskly.

    Wrapping the fluffy black towel around her damp hair in a rough turban, she slipped on her bathrobe before opening the bathroom door to step into her bedroom. With a casual, "Good morning, Teddy," directed to the scowling preteen boy currently sprawled across her rumpled bed – she had had a feeling that she would find him in her room – she strode into her walk-in wardrobe, unconcerned about Teddy seeing her in the altogether as they both understood he had no intention of peeking.

    Spying on girls whether dressed or otherwise held scant interest for most twelve-year-old lads, and Teddy was not an exception. Arielle was NOT looking forward to the inevitable change in his perspective when he hit his awkward teenage period; the memory of her own was not nearly distant enough in her mind to prevent an instinctive shudder of distaste. BAH, hormones! She waved away her contemplation of the not-too-distant future as a worry for another time, and switched her thoughts to her outfit for the day. She had just settled on her favourite black jeans paired with a short-sleeved Henley in deep green, when a whiny voice piped up from her bedroom. "Aunty Ari,  _come on_! Geez, do all girls take so long just to find clothes? I'm starving, is it lunchtime yet?"

    Snorting inelegantly, Ari rolled her eyes as she retorted, "Ha, ha. Hold your hippogriffs,  _Edward_." Smirking as she heard his disgusted huff at the use of the first name that he had forever disdained in favour of the more informal nicknames – he was Ted or Teddy. Just like his grandfather before him (Ari crossed herself and silently mouthed a prayer as she remembered the kindly older man with his gentle eyes, gone for over a decade now). She swallowed against a sudden hard lump in her throat as she thought back on that dark, awful period – so many lost – Ted Tonks had been only one amongst the countless killed under tragic circumstances. Exhaling hard, she impatiently brought her mind away from the grim recollections of a past better left behind. Back to the brighter, happier present currently inhabited by the ever-excitable Teddy who – by the sounds of it – was all but bouncing in his agitation as he waited for her to join him.

    Swiftly yanking on her selected gear, she slipped into her preferred footwear of choice, black ankle boots with 3-inch wedged heels – hey, when you were 5'2 in your bare feet you took your inches where you found 'em – and quickly surveyed herself in the full length mirror one the back of the closet door.

    Petite (which was just a polite way of saying  _short_ , damn it), with a slender but supple build, she had a face of pure, pale ivory defined with sharply cut high cheekbones tapering to a defiantly pointed chin. Her full cherry-hued lips pursed as large almond-shaped eyes, of an incredibly clear and vivid shade of emerald framed by thick black lashes, observed her appearance approvingly – perfect for a day out with the family.

    A thinly chiselled, straight nose finished off the face of a striking, exotic young woman. Her notoriously untameable mane of black curls tumbled down her back, hitting just below the soft swell of her hips. Nodding to her reflection, she moved out from behind the door and exited the room before smiling in Teddy's direction. "Ready or not, here I am."

    Perched right on the edge of the side of her bed closest to her he flung his arms out dramatically, falling backwards into her tangled bedclothes as he proclaimed loudly – apparently to the silver-and-crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling above him. "Finally!" As rapidly as he'd collapsed, he was up and off the bed and racing for the door.

    A skinny boy who was tall for his age, with gangly limbs and a gamine face topped by straight black hair – in his natural state, of course. One of Teddy's legacies from his Black family ancestry was his Metamorphmagus ability, inherited from his mother, Nymphadora, before him. At the moment, though, his hair was rapidly cycling through various colours in a dizzying display – blue, red, green, PURPLE, and so forth.

    "Come on, Ari, breakfast is ready. You know Winky hates waiting for us," he prattled over his shoulder as he swung the door open. She was right behind him as he hurried towards the winding staircase that led down to the first floor of the old house, where the dining room sat off to the side of the family's private parlour.

    "Slow down, love," she cautioned as he went to hurtle himself down the steps. "Your Gran will have your head if you go clattering down those stairs 'like a herd of rampaging centaurs'." They both grinned at her deadpan recital of Andromeda's oft-repeated admonitions over Teddy's apparent inability to descend – or ascend, for that matter – steps without excessive noise and crashing feet. "And she'll have MY head if, gods forbid, you actually take a tumble down them and injure yourself on your first real day home." While she knew that he would instantly dismiss the possibility of causing himself any true harm – ah, the innocence of youth – the reminder that he had only just returned from school for the holidays was more likely to have him pause for a moment.

    The idea of starting off his vacation by having to lie around in bed if he  _did_ hurt himself, was perhaps the best incentive for the energetic youngster to slow down somewhat as they strolled down together, chatting idly as they went. Turning left as they hit the first floor, roaming down the hallway to the second door on the left saw them into the parlour as they made for the archway at the opposite end that led into the informal dining hall. While Teddy scrambled into his chair, Arielle stood for a moment in the entryway as she contemplated the scene of domestic tranquillity before her. Her family.

    It hadn't always been like that with Andromeda and Teddy, especially in those first few months – no, years – after the war had ended. Those who were left were traumatized by the horrors that they had witnessed – and in some cases even been subject to – and mourning the ones who were lost in the struggle against Tom Riddle and his followers. A devastating yet ultimately pointless war – gods, weren't they all? The conflict had resulted in unimaginable destruction and death – while there were those who survived to carry on, they hadn't come through entirely unscathed.

* * *

 

_The Death Eaters and their allies had been ruthless in their mission to stamp out all those that they had considered unworthy of existing in the world that they wished to conquer and remake in their leader's own twisted image, and any perceived opposition to their malignant ideology – whether real or imagined – was met with violent retribution. No depths had been too low for them to sink to; there was no limit to what they were prepared to do to achieve their aims. Men, women and children alike who found themselves at their mercy soon discovered that there was none to be had._

_Degradation, blackmail and murder, whether by magical means or simple brute force, were their favoured methods of intimidation – leaving several of their victims with permanent scarring both mentally and physically, if they survived at all._

_Despite having only met once or twice, not long before the end of the war, Andra and Ari were connected through sorrow: Andromeda's only daughter, Nymphadora Lupin nee Tonks (whom all apart from her mother called Tonks for fear of finding themselves on the wrong end of the vengeful Metamorph's wand), was a casualty of the Battle of Hogwarts alongside her husband, Remus Lupin. Remus was Arielle's unofficial godfather and the last surviving link to her parents, James and Lily Potter, who had themselves been the last victims of Thomas Riddle during his_ _First Rise_ _(as it was now being labelled in the history books) as they frantically fought to save their only child – their daughter, Arielle._

_Tonks' and Remus' only son, Teddy, was born just a year before the end of the_ _Second Rebellion_ _(where did they get these titles?) and had been baptised in secrecy. Only his parents, grandparents, and prospective godparents were in attendance along with the minister who performed the ceremony. How joyful they had all been on that day even with the shadow of the war looming over them, united in their celebration over this precious new life, born in defiance of all that Tom and his allies proclaimed to believe._

_A werewolf and a blood-traitor who had actually dared to breed, who threatened to pollute the precious bloodlines of their pure magical brethren? What sacrilege!_

_They didn't care because nothing could have spoiled their happiness on that special day. To think that only one year later, that perfect image was irrevocably shattered. Ted, Tonks and Remus, along with Ronald Weasley (Teddy's godfather), were dead, leaving the rest to try and pick up the pieces of their broken lives._

_The funerals had been the worst, there were far too many lost in the fight. Ari herself had merely drifted in a fog of despair, utterly soul-weary and sickened. She had nightmares, flashing back to the carnage and bloodshed resulting from all the skirmishes and clashes she had been forced to engage in. She had felt almost as if she had_ bathed  _in the blood of the seemingly endless wounded and dead on the grounds of Hogwarts, felt as if she was as burnt-out and broken as the stony ruins of the once-grand castle._   _After the double funeral of Remus and Tonks, Arielle approached Andromeda about the need for a discussion regarding Teddy's future. In the privacy of the sitting-room at Grimmauld Place, once reassured that Arielle had no intention of usurping her position as his guardian, Andromeda had let down her guard somewhat (Arielle was unsurprised: once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin), enough for both women to shed tears together for what they had lost._

_Arielle pointed out with wry humour that she suddenly seemed to have this whacking great monstrosity of a house on her hands (thank you, Sirius Black!) with more space and rooms than she really knew what to do with, and that she was hoping to offer – with no strings attached (honestly, Slytherins were_ _SO_ _suspicious) – a place for Andromeda and Teddy both if she was agreeable. Andromeda regarded her thoughtfully before sweeping a rather sceptical gaze over the dilapidated furnishings about them, lingering narrowly on the tattered, worn tapestry depicting the lineage of the House of Black._

_Arielle had hastened to inform her that the offer was merely academic at this point; any actual relocation would only be possible after a massive overhaul of the place, potentially a complete reconstruction if necessary. Clearly the house's current state of disrepair, along with all the nasty Dark artefacts and Enchantments scattered throughout, was no place for any sane human being to reside in, let alone anyone with a young infant to care for._   _Andromeda had promised to think about it, citing that they had time after all – the kind of extreme renovations that the house was in dire need of was going to take a while, even with the aid of magic. They parted with a slightly awkward, yet sincere embrace, and a mutual vow to stay in touch. They had a child to watch over now, his parents were no longer around to carry on that responsibility, and it was all up to them._

_It had all grown from there, such a heartbreaking beginning had slowly but surely become an unshakeable bond between them all. Teddy had helped of course, a sweet-natured, inquisitive child whose broad smile lit up the room, and remaining tense or standoffish around him was simply impossible._   _As the remodelling of Number 12 really got underway, Andromeda made herself available to the somewhat overwhelmed Arielle. Not only was the younger woman overseeing the extensive renovations, but she also found herself under extreme scrutiny from the rest of the British magical community, which seemed to view her as alternately the heroine of the great war, and the scapegoat for the destruction wrought by the Death Eaters' sadistic regime._

_Every aspect of her life; from pre-Hogwarts to her school years, as well as her actions throughout the war were made front-page news. No detail was considered too personal to publish, no rumour or exaggerated gossip even verified before it was issued into the public forum via the magical media – at least, that was before Andromeda had used her extensive network of contacts to seek out, and hire, one of the foremost legal firms on Ari's behalf. The associate who actually took on the case, a Mr. Howard (call me Howie) Servum, had all but rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation at the plethora of evidence he had been handed to work with – the best part was that it was all in writing._

_The media had damned themselves just by putting pen to paper. The libel suit had dragged on for months, and they were heartily sick of the whole bloody mess of it by the end, but they won._   _The fallout had been massive – the_ _Daily Prophet  _ _had closed their doors, citing a massive loss of revenue and sponsorship. Apparently, the people of Magical Britain had lost faith in their ability to report the news factually and without bias. Arielle had to suppress her urge to laugh hysterically over_ _THAT_ _little gem (she could have told them that after the utter debacle that was her fourth year at Hogwarts)._

_On the day that Andromeda and Teddy finally moved in during the winter of 1998, with help from all members of the Malfoy family amongst others – Andromeda and Narcissa looked around in wonder and delight at their rejuvenated childhood home. It seemed that, under the ownership of a determined young Arielle, the house was reborn from the dank sinister dwelling of their early memories into the light, airy space before them. Gone were the menacing decorations – the severed elves heads and dismembered troll-leg umbrella-stand sprang to mind – along with that dreadful wall of family portraits, inhabited by the old harpy herself . . ._ Walburga Black _. . . and the ominous atmosphere of a dynasty in severe decline, this was now a household filled with hope and potential, a place that only needed the people within it to realise and fulfil that hope – a family._

_Both of the formerly estranged, now happily reunited, sisters would forever deny that they shed a few tears at the scene before them: Teddy was safely tucked into his playpen in a corner well out of the way of the steady trail of noisy, chattering people moving in and out of the foyer as they lifted and transferred the trunks and boxes containing Arielle's, Andromeda's, and Teddy's possessions from outside._   _People, that before the end of the war, no one would ever have dreamed of seeing in the same place let alone cooperating and mingling together as they were: Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy were currently intensely debating the validity of simple household Charms (Neville was using a combination of_ Wingardium Leviosa  _along with_ _under-powered_ _Banishing_ _Charms to shift various bundles of goods all around the residence) versus advanced Transfiguration (Draco's preference was to simply Vanish his chosen targets at the original starting place before he departed to the desired location for the items in question to reverse the_ _Vanishment_ _)._

_The cheerful exchange of good-natured insults and banter between the two young men would have suggested that they were lifelong friends to any interested bystander, rather than former bitter school rivals-turned-reluctant-allies during the Rebellion._

_Lucius Malfoy was in the process of shifting a rather lovely brass queen-sized bed frame (Arielle's) through the hallways with great care so as not to bang or scratch the framework against the freshly moulded and painted walls. Hermione Granger, of all people, was supervising his efforts from the other end of the bed so as to keep out of his way and to be able to warn him if the Levitated object should fall or slip out of place._   _The odd pairing of proud pureblood and feisty muggle-born were gossiping away enthusiastically, dissecting the latest issue of_ _The Speaker_ _, the publication that had taken over where the_ _Daily Prophet_   _had left off – only with much less sensationalism, and more attention given to verifying and backing up the facts of any topic the paper presented to the public._ _To everyone's astonishment, not least of all their own, the duo had bonded over their mutual appreciation and interest in all of the studies and discoveries relating to the ancient civilisation of Sumer. Who knew?_

_In between stopping to check on and happily chatter nonsense with Teddy, Arielle, along with Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley, was most often found upstairs travelling from room to room. Verifying that everything was in its desired location, they started the process of packing it all away – clothes into dressers and closets, books and ornaments onto shelves, etc – getting into the task with verve and enthusiasm. Ari beamed in joy as the home she had always dreamed of finally started to take shape all around her._

_Finally the mighty undertaking was complete, and the helpers had left amidst profuse thanks from the weary and exhausted occupants. The last to depart, Hermione, had swept out with a last obligatory love-fest and cuddling with a sleepy Teddy and her signature bone-squeezing hugs for both women. Retiring to the first-floor living-room, the two all but collapsed on the overstuffed three-seater green sofa. Arielle was cradling a snoozing Teddy as he snuggled into her chest, while her head rolled over the back of the couch limply. Both exhaled gustily as they relaxed in the peaceful atmosphere, lost in their own thoughts. Breaking free of her reverie, Arielle turned her head to Andromeda as she thought of something._

_Alerted by the motion, Andromeda lifted her head to gaze back inquiringly. Smiling, Arielle murmured softly as not to disturb her sleeping burden. "If I never remembered to say it before, let me say it now, I am so very happy that you decided to take me up on my offer to move in with me, you and Teddy both._

_"I couldn't bear the idea of rattling around the empty old place all by myself, with only the ghosts of the past . . ." here both their gazes shifted to the far wall where new portraits and photographs had been hung. Specifically, their eyes were drawn to a photograph bearing two subjects against a background that looked rather like the old second-floor drawing-room of Grimmauld Place before the rebuild. A fifteen-year-old Arielle stood in front of an older man, who had his arms wrapped around her as her hands gripped his forearms tightly. Her godfather, Sirius Black, with his long, shaggy black hair and wildly blue eyes. He retained some vestiges of his youthful good looks even despite his unlawful twelve-year incarceration in the hellhole known as Azkaban – the Wizarding Prison._

_The decorations in the scene suggested Christmas, quite rightly, for the photo had been taken during the Christmas holidays of Arielle's fifth year, the holidays just before Sirius's death the following June. Arielle and Sirius both beamed hugely at the camera, their body language showing that they were perfectly happy at their closeness and open display of affection, but if you looked closely at their eyes you could see the haunted expression that said that they had seen terrible sadness in their lives. The lost, melancholy glint warned that both had close, personal experience with heartache and death._

_As with all magical photographs, it moved, as if it was a brief film of precious moments in time rather than a frozen snap of the past. Suddenly, Sirius's arms moved from being wound around her torso to place his hands on her waist, where his fingers fluttered in an unmistakable tickling gesture. If there were any doubt as to his intent, Arielle's captured reaction said it all – her hands snapped down to lay over his, gripping and clearly trying to tug them away from her sensitive sides, as her mouth opened wide in a silent, half-indignant and half-shocked shout of laughter. As for Sirius, he threw back his head in a great bellow of laughter, unheard by any observer, as his shoulders shook in mirth at her indignation. The photo then returned to the original poses before beginning the sequence anew._

_Arielle's eyes dropped as she tried to swallow down her renewed grief for him – it was so hard to see how happy they had been, together at last, and know that it would never be like that again. Andromeda watched the cycled interaction a little longer before turning back to her companion, her face softening at the girl's clear anguish._  " _So am I. My memories of Ted and Nymphadora nearly swallowed me up while I was at the cottage. Do not mistake my meaning," she laid her hand over Arielle's, resting on Teddy's back, as she spoke. "Those memories are happy, but still too fresh after losing them both._

_"Returning here with Teddy and yourself, with its restored beauty, means that I –_ _WE_ _– have a chance to start again as well. Our lives will be very different to what we may have expected before, but that is irrelevant now. What matters is that we look to the future, and that we work towards making it stronger and brighter for our family."_   _She smiled as Arielle's bowed head snapped up to look at her with a sudden feeling of desperate, barely veiled hope. She gently squeezed the hand she held, reiterating tenderly, "Our family. We are bound together not just by a child, or a shared residence, but by our hopes and dreams for a lighter, happier world than the darkness that we have just emerged from."_

_Arielle's beam began slowly, quirking her full mouth and brightening her suddenly sparkling eyes as it spread across her beautiful, unusual features. Andromeda grinned back at her before remarking, "You know, all of my close family calls me Andra."_

    " _I'm Ari."_

_And so it started._

* * *

 

    Teddy grinned cheekily toward the head of the table where his grandmother was seated, exclaiming, "Gran, I told you Aunty Arielle wouldn't mind if I waited in her room."

    Andromeda's perfectly plucked eyebrow arched haughtily as she tutted in mild reproof, before replying, "Just because Arielle chooses not to tell you off for invading the privacy of her room, Edward-" she eyed him coolly as he squirmed at the name, "-Does not make it right. You certainly do not like it when others come into your room without an invitation, why should this be any different?" When it came to discipline, Andromeda was the undisputed champion of chastisement. Her Black ancestry and the upbringing that came along with being a member of the Ancient family had seen to that, reinforced by her own personal demeanour.

    She was a tall, dignified lady of middle age with brown hair that was yet to show a single strand of grey and serene blue eyes. Bearing a rather aristocratic nose and a thin but shapely mouth set in a smoothly imperious face, her shoulders were straight and her posture upright – the epitome of centuries of pureblood breeding.

    Teddy stared at his shoes glumly for a moment before lifting his face to Arielle's as she sat in the chair next to him. "Sorry Aunty Ari, I didn't think about that. I was just so excited about today."

    "It's alright, Teddy-" she smiled at him. "-I already forgave you because I know you too well," winking at him as he giggled. "You know, I half-expected to wake up to find you all snuggled up next to me like you did the night before you left for school," she mused as she eyed him.

    He pulled a face, exclaiming, "But that's for babies, Aunty Ari! I'm a big boy now, at Hogwarts and everything." Andra was chuckling softly in the background as Arielle's expression dropped comically in mock-sadness.

    "No more sleepovers? No more stealing the blankets and hogging the pillows?" she sniffled dramatically while Teddy chortled at her teasing. "How could you be so cruel? Do you really mean I have to sleep all by myself, in my huge soft bed, without my favourite godson to keep me company?" He rolled his eyes in exasperation.

    "Aunty Ari,  _why_ do I have to keep reminding you that I'm your  _only_  godson?"

    "Are you now? I'll have to tell Neville and Luna to hurry along then, and give me lots and lots of god-babies to spoil. Speaking of the Professors Longbottom, how did Neville take it when you were sorted into Slytherin?" she inquired just as Winky popped in with the breakfast platters floating just above her head. Smiling and nodding at the little elf's cheerful greeting of, "Good morning, Miss Arielle," before responding in kind, she waited as Winky quietly served their breakfast, snapping her long fingers to have the platters wink out of existence from over her head only to pop into place in front of each of them. With a bob of her head and a smile, Winky left them to their meal.

    They all tucked in, Winky's cooking was too enticing to waste. Teddy paused to have a sip of his orange juice before he replied to Ari's previous question. "After I took the hat off and looked at him, he was just shaking his head and smiling a bit. He shooed me off to the Slytherin table so they could continue the sorting, and I didn't really have a chance to speak with him for a while after that.

    "Not personally, at least. He had me stay after Herbology after my first week though, to 'see how I was getting on in the Viper's Pit', as he put it," Teddy recalled, grinning at the memory. "I said to him, 'Now, now Professor, anyone would think you had a grudge against Slytherin. Not very proper for a teacher, is it?' He just laughed and told me that I reminded him of a certain rather cheeky young Gryffindor that he used to know."

    "Oh? And who would that be?"

    "He said he didn't want to name names."

    "I'll bet he didn't. Brave Gryffindor he might have been, but he was never that much of a fool," Arielle laughed heartily, her former Gryffindor housemate had no problems taking the mickey.

    "He said he had no problems with any of the houses, that any rivalries were better left for Quidditch and Broom Sweep, in which case he was completely pro-Gryffindor," Teddy revealed as they ate.

    "Well, he IS the Head of House for Gryffindor, love, it would be a bit strange if he didn't," Andra spoke between delicate bites of her scrambled eggs. Teddy giggled.

    "I know, Gran. He's a great teacher, even if he was a 'bold, chivalrous Gryffindor', and Miss Luna sure knows her stuff in Potions class – Paisley Higgs nearly melted her cauldron once before the Professor could get there and settle it down. It was a good thing too, because we were working on Swelling Solution." He shook his head at the thought. "I remember when Miss Hermione told me about your second year at Hogwarts when your classmates' Swelling Potions exploded and splashed lots of people who were too close."

    Ari remembered that one all too well – Goyle's grotesquely enlarged hands, Draco's nose (alright, THAT had actually been rather amusing) suddenly bloated to the point that he couldn't even hold his head upright under the weight of it, as he scurried up the aisle to the front of the class where Professor Snape was handily curing all those that had been affected by the splattered liquid. Who knew that one little firework could create such a fuss when tossed into a cauldron filled with a viscous material, Ari reflected mirthfully.

    They conversed happily for the rest of breakfast with Teddy cheerfully filling their ears with all of his adventures at Hogwarts over the past year, and gabbling about his hopes for the next school year to come – even if that was far, far away (Ari and Andra exchanged grins over his oblivious head) – before switching to their plans for the day. Both of the adult women, in anticipation of Teddy's homecoming, had arranged to take the week off from their respective employment in order to be able to spend time together as a family.

    Winky popped back in to clear away the emptied platters (just how the clever elf simply seemed to  _know_  when they were finished Ari had never figured out). She had a true family now, something she would never have believed possible all those years ago under the harsh cruelty of the Dursleys; her maternal relatives.

    Teddy hopped up from the table, full of excitement again, before catching his Gran's gimlet eye. He gulped slightly, before straightening up and requesting, as politely as a twelve-year-old boy could, to be excused from the table. Andra nodded serenely, before rolling her eyes in fond exasperation, as he raced out of the room like he was afraid she was going to change her mind at any moment. The women shared a laugh at his antics before Ari excused herself as well to ensure she had everything she needed prior to their departure for the day's planned activity. Andra followed her out, the duo parting at the stairs as Arielle ascended to walk to her room with Andra walking to her personal suite on the ground level of the mansion. Eventually, they had all wound their way down and across to the main entrance foyer ready to go. Teddy, of course, was jumping around like a chocolate frog as his guardians went through the final checklist, money – cash and credit – wands safely tucked away in Disillusioned holsters, snacks and water bottles, sunscreen (it was a warm day in the middle of summer), hats and handbags complete with Undetectable, Extension, and Weightless Charms active, check.

    Ari recommended one final addition of a Silencing Charm as a precaution, and Andra quickly made a subtle gesture at her. Ari nodded and focussed inward for a moment. Teddy wasn't the only Metamorph in this household. She felt the magic ripple over her, swiftly achieving the effect she wanted. Andra nodded with a smile, and they were off. Closing the door behind her as she was the last to exit, Ari smiled and revelled in the feel of the bright, hot sunlight on her face. What a perfect day to visit the zoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Good? Bad? Boring?


	3. Chapter 2: The Beasts Of London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family fun at the London zoo . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See first chapter.

    One riotous and hilarious – for Ari and Teddy, at least – Knight Bus ride later, three distinctly rumpled and dishevelled passengers all but tumbled down the steps exiting the infamous magical transport, Andra giving the other two the evil eye as they cackled madly. Shaking her head in annoyance as that only set them off more; she turned her nose up disdainfully, visibly working to regain her usual dignified self-possession. A quietly spoken, wand-less spell had her slightly wrinkled dress falling back into its previous neat and tidy state before she directed her attention to the sobering, yet still widely grinning, pair of miscreants.

    Upon seeing Andra's slightly narrowed look, Ari hastily straightened her lips into an appropriately serious curve as she nodded with seeming compliance to Andra's severity. "Never again. I do not care how funny the two of you find it to go tumbling around like rocks in an avalanche-" pausing huffily as Teddy went off into fresh gusts of laughter at that. "-But that . . . that  _vehicle_  . . . is a death trap."

    She crinkled her nose at the word 'vehicle' as if she found the Knight Bus highly unworthy of the description but was unable to assign another term for it, or at least not any that were terribly polite. Ari's eyes gleamed with poorly suppressed humour as she quickly used the same charm as Andra to straighten out both her clothing and Teddy's before gesturing to the gates in front of them that proclaimed The Greater London Wildlife Sanctuary and Theme Park. "Shall we?"

    Entering the first set of gates, they showed their prepaid entry passes to the bored custodian as he waved them forward dismissively into the massive park, set over the span of several city blocks in an open-style layout. There were several walkways with posted markers to indicate nearby attractions and their direction. Teddy was eagerly looking around him as Ari watched closely from nearby – she wouldn't put it past him to suddenly take off if his excitement got the better of him – while Andra was attaining a map and several pamphlets from a helpful attendant.

    Strolling back over as she unrolled the map, the pamphlets safely tucked in her bag, she beamed fondly at Teddy's marked impatience to get their adventure underway (yesterday if you please, Gran!) before inquiring, "Well, where to first?"

    "Ooh, I know! We have to see the lions, and then the chimps, and ride the rollercoaster, and . . ." Teddy chattered on as he tugged both of the laughing women behind him further on into the park by means of having both of his hands firmly grasping one each of theirs, as he happily burbled away over his plan of attack for seeing  _everything_  and partaking in all that the theme park had to offer alongside the wildlife exhibits. He stopped suddenly, staring in rapt concentration at a booth in front of him. Following his absorbed gaze they saw it was a face-painting stall with a few children currently in the process of transformation. Others who were already made-over were standing by with patiently observing parents and guardians, some of whom had painted designs on their faces as well. Teddy turned to them eagerly. "Wait! We can't go before we get our faces painted."

    That brought Andra up short, as her eyes flared vaguely in disbelief. "OUR faces? Wait just a moment now, young man, I think you meant YOUR face. Didn't he?" appealing now to Ari to clarify the matter. Andra looked over at the kiosk and the examples of facial art displayed whilst shuddering internally – oh the indignity, no well-bred Black would ever submit to such a thing, and especially not with the intent of being seen in public with such garish adornment. Her inward contemplation of the unseemliness of it all was abruptly halted as she saw Teddy's expression fall in disappointment. Clearly, this member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had few worries on the issue of his personal decorum, at least not under these circumstances.

    "But Gran, its fun. It wouldn't be the same if we didn't all do it. We agreed that we'd do everything together today, so that it'd be a real family time since we haven't all been together since Christmas." His pleading face, complete with large, puppy-dog eyes, softened her instinctive resistance. Her sideways glance at Ari saw her last hopes for refusal flicker and die as she met the arch look the younger female sported.

    "Yeah 'Gran _'_ , its fun."

    Giving her a look that promised future retaliation for this slight Andra turned back to Teddy, sighing internally at the upcoming affront to her propriety, as she gave in with grace if not enthusiasm. "Alright, for the sake of having . . . fun, then."

    "Yay!"

    Teddy raced off to the stall to wait for his turn, as his grandmother murmured, "The things I do for you," to his rapidly retreating back. "For you both," she amended, directing that last towards the unrepentant raven-haired girl beside her. Ari guffawed in merriment, clapping Andra's shoulder in amused sympathy.

    "I know, I know . . ." holding up her hand in a mocking parody of a politician – or a professor, perhaps – about to make a speech she intoned gravely, "No well brought-up person shall ever conduct themselves in a manner, nor engage in the type of behaviour, that will result in them bringing shame upon themselves and thereby their house. In particular, we refer to those who are members of – or associated with – the illustrious family of Black." Putting her hand back down, she arched her brow at Andra. "How was that?"

    "Remarkable really, for someone who never met the woman – you sound just like my dearly beloved, sadly departed great-aunt Cassiopeia," retorted Andra, raising a supercilious eyebrow in return. She was rather amused and, truthfully, a little disturbed – Ari's sardonic delivery really had been quite eerie in its similarity to her memories of Aunt Cassiopeia's constant lecturing on the importance of proper pure-blooded etiquette and their family's supposedly elevated rank in the world. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising, really, after all Ari's paternal grandmother had been Dorea Potter nee Black, Cassiopeia's younger sister. She knew better than to share that particular thought, all too aware of Ari's rather low opinion of the vast majority of the Black family, bar a select few. Ironic really, Andra mused, that the last three members of the Black family to display one of the Ancestral gifts, their latent Metamorphmagus ability, had been Nymphadora and her son Teddy, as well as Ari herself (those that the  _pure, well-bred_  members of their  _esteemed_  lineage would have disdained as half-bloods, unworthy of their ancestry). Their face-off was interrupted by Teddy's semi-bellow of frustration at their lack of haste in joining him. Duly summoned, Ari smirked as she laid her arm across Andra's shoulders in a supportive hug while they walked over to the fidgeting child.

    "Yes, there is absolutely no decorum involved in this endeavour whatsoever, but-" here she paused to wink at her reluctant companion, "-I'm prepared to bet that it won't be even close to as awful an experience as you're thinking. You know, if you let go of the impropriety of it all, you may actually find yourself enjoying it."

    Andra looked at her askance, clearly doubtful. Ari just smiled. They reached Teddy's side just as one of the artists at the stall approached him. "How can I help you today, young man?" Andra discreetly handed over one of the certified vouchers that came with their entry-passes to the zoo, entitling them to partake of as many of the exhibits and activities as there were coupons without paying extra. The young man smiled at her gratefully, before turning back to Teddy. "How about you come along with me, and we'll take a look at all the models we have, so you can find the one you want."

    Taking a peek at the ticket in his hand, and clearly noting that it was entitled 'Family' rather than 'Single', he looked over his shoulder at Ari and Andra as they followed behind. Gesturing with his free hand, he silently asked if either, or both, intended to make use of the coupon with Teddy. Both nodded, Andra with a rather pinched look while Ari grinned toothily, decidedly unsympathetic to the elder's discomfort. His eyes crinkled in amusement as he fought off a grin of his own, before twisting his head back around to point out for Teddy's benefit the range of different and colourful animal motifs carefully painted onto the plaster headpieces placed atop the counter beside the door.

    Teddy wandered over, completely engrossed in his task of having to decide just which one of the icons before him that he wanted to have marked on his own face. The attendant, seeing him well engaged in his own little world, seized the chance to hammer out the finer details with the pair. "There are a couple of options in how we can do this: I'm happy to work with all of you one at a time if you prefer; or you can select any of the others, once they're available, to fix you up in the design you've chosen." He inclined his head to the portrait bench, inviting them to browse and make their selection.

    By the time they crossed the short distance, Teddy had made up his mind, pointing it out to them with a gleeful chirp, "That one,  _definitely_. It has to be that one."

    Ari regarded the detailed image thoughtfully, before eyeing Teddy with an amused smirk curling her lips. "How very – appropriate, Mr. Lupin."

    Teddy sniggered, looking at the male artist and indicating his choice – a heavily stylised representation of a cobra's head, depicted on the model with the jaws flared wide to display improbably long white fangs, and scales of green and black with red-and-yellow slitted eyes. With that, the man indicated his workspace, complete with two stools and a small table covered in the tools of his trade – brushes, cleaning cloths and paints in a variety of hues. While he set to work on Teddy's face, Ari considered her options – the snarling tiger's face was a clever, vivid creation, but she was also drawn by the exotically drawn form of a leopard, striking and imperious. She approved.

    Decided, she looked in Andra's direction before huffing out in exasperation – evidently, her companion believed that if she dragged her heels long enough, she might be able to get out of it. Ari put paid to that idea smartly, strutting over to murmur in her ear, "Either you choose, or I do. And you may not necessarily like what I pick, so get cracking – after all, you wouldn't want to disappoint him now," jerking her head to indicate Teddy. "Would you?"

    Andra pursed her lips in disapproval, muttering to herself inaudibly – if Ari hadn't known better, she might have said the woman was  _pouting_ , of all things. But of course,  _Blacks_  never pouted. It Just Wasn't Done. "I cannot see how it makes any difference really; I'M not the one who has to view the final result all day long. I merely have to bear the thought of it being there at all," Andra remarked coolly. "By the way, what did you have in mind for me?"

    Ari just gestured lazily with one finger, her gleaming eyes akin to those of a self-satisfied cat right before it pounced on a juicy mouse. Following the line of her finger, Andra all but hissed in outrage, "You  _cannot_  be serious!" following that with a hastily raised hand to forestall Ari's playful rejoinder. "Yes, yes, I know who  _Sirius_  is, dearest Ari – I may be old but I am not prone to dementia. As much as the TWO children under my care do seem to do all in their considerable power to drive me to distraction!"

    Ari simply rolled her eyes expressively, grinning at the oft-repeated reference to her supposed immaturity, comparable to Teddy's tender years. "But you make it so easy, Andra, giving me ammunition like that," she quipped, grinning. "After all, I  _can't_  make lemonade without lemons, even with magic."

    "Be that as it may, I am NOT about to be painted AS a peacock, even if I have to be embellished LIKE one." Andra glared over at the garish illustration of the flaunting avian. The brightly coloured design was complete with a pair of painted eye-feathers that, on an actual person's face, were clearly designed to start one on either side from the middle of the forehead all the way down to the chin.

    "Clearly, then, you DO have a stance on the matter, even if it's merely what you DON'T want," Ari spoke simply. Andra groaned at having fallen into the trap so easily. "So, best if you crack on with it then," Ari waved her arm, encompassing the display in front of them, "And  _I_ will find someone to give me MY 'Extreme Makeover'." Suiting action to words, she moved off towards one of the workstations, occupied by a woman with a welcoming smile indicating her availability as Ari approached. Andra pivoted back to the offerings with a sigh, setting her mind to the task at hand. Never let it be said that a Black shirked their obligation to family, she thought wryly.

    She picked up on the flicker of motion from the corner of her eye, half-turning her head to watch a middle-aged lady move toward her, head tilted in polite inquiry with a small smile on her mouth. "Having trouble deciding?" she asked kindly. Andra smiled back half-heartedly.

    "I am here with my cousin and grandson," tilting her head to indicate both Teddy and Ari. "And it seems that I cannot possibly attend the zoo without seizing the opportunity to be decorated as some manner of wild creature."

    The lady smiled widely at Andra's clear unease before she replied, "I know it seems rather more childish than anything else, but the young ones do get a great deal of pleasure from it – especially if it's done as a family pastime. And besides-" she lowered her voice, stepping forward and inclining her head to Andra's in a conspiratorial fashion. "-Doing something you feel is just a tad ridiculous like this early on in the day . . ." she paused until Andra angled her own head to show her full attention. ". . . Means that you now have the perfect excuse to decline some of your less-preferred activities later on – maybe the rollercoaster isn't quite your cup of tea?" she waved her hand expressively, leaving it open to Andra's interpretation. "Anything along those lines, it's all up to you as to how you choose to take advantage of your circumstances."

    They smiled at each other in perfect accord – here, Andra thought approvingly, was a woman who knew how to play the game. The woman, whose nametag identified her as Margaret, curled her fingers in an inviting gesture to beckon Andra over to a particular section of the exhibited models. This seemed to be the location where the avian sculptures were to be found – including, Andra inwardly shuddered, that awful peacock. "My cousin has already pointed out the, er, colourful portrait of the peacock – that I declined – if that was what you wished to show me, madam," she stated swiftly, to prevent any such suggestion.

    Margaret's eyebrows flew up in surprise as she looked towards the image in question, before she shook her head in bemusement. "I'm sure she was only joking, ma'am, I just don't see that suiting you at all. In fact . . ." she beckoned again, inviting Andra closer to where she stood as she picked up one of the plaster moulds to show her directly. ". . . THIS was what I thought of when I saw you standing there."

    "Oh!" Andra exclaimed, in stunned admiration. "THAT is just lovely."

    And it truly was lovely, a beautifully crafted image in soft tones of gold and brown, with subtle highlights of copper and creamy white throughout. An owl, wise and serene, stared back at her appreciative eyes. She looked up at Margaret, beaming at her contentedly, completely assured for the first time that this wasn't, after all, simply going to be an exercise in humility. "Do you really like it?" Margaret questioned her, seeking her honest feelings on the matter. Andra smiled.

    "I love it. I am Andromeda, by the way." She proffered her hand, which Margaret gripped firmly in her free palm.

    "And I'm Margaret. It's lovely to meet you, Andromeda." Thus introduced, Margaret gestured towards what was apparently her table, well organised and free of clutter and stains – Andra approved immensely. "Shall we get started, then?"

    "By all means, lead the way."

* * *

 

    The rollercoaster had been rather fun, Andra reflected later as they sat in one of the zoo's open refreshment areas. They were dining on hotdogs with onions, pickles and relish (Teddy); spicy nachos with melted cheese, sour cream and extra chilli on the side (Ari); and ham, cheese and cucumber sandwiches, cut into dainty quarters (Andra), all of them lazily savouring their meals and the noonday sunshine.

    The lion exhibit and aviary were also very enjoyable, but she had flatly refused to take part in the 'Jungle Walk', as it was called – she did not care how safe they said it was, she had absolutely no intention of wandering around a series of earthen paths lined by trees, where capuchin monkeys and striped lemurs and the like apparently roamed freely. They swung through the trees, racing across the grounds within the vast enclosure, and were apparently quite happy to get up close and personal with the human visitors. According to the brochure, they walked alongside and clambered all over the people they saw in search of a reward – bags of animal pellets were handed to each visitor as they entered the exhibit, to offer to the friendly creatures. No, thank you very much, but NO.

    Swallowing the last bite of her sandwich she dabbed at her lips with a napkin before briskly wiping her hands clear of any last, lingering crumbs. She waited patiently for the others to finish their meal. Her warning eye, directed across the wooden bench at Teddy, was enough to dissuade him from taking an overly large bite of his dog and thus risk all manner of spillage – he already possessed a rather impressive reddish ring around his mouth from the smeared relish, as Ari smirked around her mouthful of stringy cheese and crunchy corn chips beside him.

    "Do not encourage him, please."

    "I didn't say anything!"

    "That would be the issue," Andra stated dryly. "You SHOULD say something when you see him acting like a jarvey." Ari sniggered at the clear reference to their visit to the magical side of the zoo – jarveys could swear with an expertise that would put a sailor to blush.

    Having polished off her own meal, Ari wiped her mouth and fingers before replying, "I know, but he's not bad with remembering all the rules most of the time – and nobody's perfect anyway."

    Teddy's sudden loud, gusty belch underlined her statement with an emphatic punctuation – Ari burst into raucous giggles as Andra exclaimed over him in high dudgeon. One utterly scathing lecture later, with a suitably chastened Teddy and a mostly sober Ari – a roguish glint in her eye belying her pose of refined affront to Teddy's 'rude, undisciplined outburst' – Teddy had swallowed his very last crumb. Any temptation to lick his fingers clean died a quick and painful death as he recalled his grandmother's earlier display of controlled ire.

* * *

 

    The next few hours saw them rambling all over, visiting the elephants' and meerkats' enclosures as well as picking up a few souvenirs along the way. Teddy, having carefully held back on his request in order to allow his grandmother a cooling-off period, made a bid for sweets. Specifically, for fairy-floss. Andra gave in – those puppy-dog eyes were practically a lethal weapon that the boy exploited without mercy – smiling at his cheer of excitement. The trio wandered off again, all carrying a stick laden with the frothy treat, heading towards the building that housed the zoo's resident population of reptiles – land-dwelling and aquatic alike – with a chamber at the back accommodating a huge, pressurised tunnel under the artificial ocean environment where several varieties of marine life swam, paddled and weaved through the waters.

    Before that though, the landlocked descendants of dragons and dinosaurs awaited them. Viewing the world from behind thick, clear glass, most were placid and disinterested in what they saw, preferring to conserve their energy until their next feeding time. Until Ari walked in. Slowly but steadily, the subtle and barely perceptible buzz seemed to move from cage to cage, in pace with Ari's movement through the building as they observed the ophidian beings behind the clear barriers. Unless one happened to be closely watching, none would really take any notice of the fact that she appeared to be communicating with them – and that they seemed to respond in turn.

    Lizards raced up to the front of the glass walls, placing their clawed or padded toes against the barrier as they peered at her with large eyes, flicking their tongues and blinking their eyelids rapidly. Snakes raised their heads to observe her, one rather gorgeous specimen – a King Cobra – flared its hood and swayed slightly, almost as if it were dancing. Teddy was delighted. Finally they moved along into the aquarium as, deprived of the object of their fascination, the inhabitants of the glass chambers slowly slipped back into their usual somnolent states.

    The tunnel was dim, an eerie silvery glow from recessed niches in the floor leaving the major source of illumination to emanate from the main attraction – the waters above their heads softly blue from the waterproof lanterns attached to the outer structure of the underwater passage. Sauntering along at their own pace – having briefly considered, and then rejected the idea of taking one of the guided tours – they were lost in a watery wonderland.

    There, off to the right, a tiger shark patrolled the waters, lazily fanning its tail from side to side; above them a school of silvery tuna darted this way and that; Ari spied, and pointed out to a fascinated Teddy, the head of a suspicious grouper – the only part of it that they could see – peering out from a hollow in a rock formation. Several sea snakes writhed and twisted like long, graceful ribbons along the currents, popping up to the surface every so often to take in oxygen. Further on through the trio meandered seeing playful dolphins, vividly coloured angelfish, shy seahorses and large-shelled crustaceans crawling about the sandy floor. By the time they hit the exit, Teddy was starting to droop in contented exhaustion – he'd had a wonderful day out with two of his favourite females in the whole world, but he was ready to go home and have his dinner before crawling into bed for the night.

    Recognising the signs of a drowsy, possibly soon to be cranky, child they shepherded him back towards the main gates. Passing through, Ari and Andra swiftly debated their options: Knight Bus, Apparition, train or Floo. Andra firmly squashed any notion of her ever riding on 'that filthy contraption' (over the span of the day, she had managed to find an acceptable designation for the Knight Bus without needing to resort to crudity, after all) ever again; Apparition was NOT Teddy's favourite way to travel, and he was now over-tired and inclined to be fractious; walking several blocks to locate the nearest public Floo had them wincing at the very thought, they had been on their feet for the larger portion of the day already; and the entrance to the underground railway line was only half way down the block. 'Train,' was the unanimous vote, and off they went.

* * *

 

    Once they reached their final stop, Teddy was snoring contentedly, curled up on Ari's lap like an oversized cat. With a bit of careful manoeuvring, she managed to perch him on her hip as he woke up just long enough to wrap his arms around her neck, his legs about her waist, and have his head nestled under her chin before he was out again. Andra took command of their handbags, their assortment of parcels and bags from the zoo had previously been placed discreetly within as they waited for the train.

    At home, Andra opened the door and waved Ari in with her dozing burden. They quietly discussed whether or not to wake him for dinner; the decision was snatched away from them, as Teddy suddenly let out a particularly loud snore and jolted himself awake. "What . . ." he peered around blearily, "When did we get home?" he queried in confusion.

    "Just now," Ari replied soothingly. In her experience a suddenly awoken Teddy could be a bit of a trial at times, bewildered and nervous until he remembered where he was. She settled him gently on his feet before her, holding on to his shoulders until she was sure of his balance.

    "Come on, Twitch." The familiar, fond nickname originated from his endearing habit of screwing up his nose before using his Morphing ability. It didn't matter which part of himself he was altering at the time – face, hair, or body – his nose was a dead giveaway that something had shifted.

    "Ari!" he whined, screwing up his face. "I'm not a baby anymore, and I HATE that name – even more than . . ." shuddering in disgust, ". . .   _Edward_."

    She sniggered softly, walking past to go to the stairs and head for the kitchen to let Winky know that they were home. "Then you'd better stop TWITCHING every time you Morph, hadn't you?" she could practically  _feel_ him rolling his eyes at her back, before he pounded up the steps behind her, Andra's admonition to wash up,  _properly_ , before dinner floating in the air after him as she retired to her rooms to do the same. The face-paint, regardless of how much enjoyment they had all gained from it, had to go. It was just now gone 5 o'clock in the afternoon, and with tea generally being served at 6:30pm during the summer months, there was time for each of them to relax and pursue their own interests before gathering in the dining room for the evening meal.

    Andra would most likely take the opportunity to rest a little before eating, though certainly not old by the standards of the Magical World with their tendency toward extended life-spans, she wasn't a fresh young ingénue either. After Ari spoke with Winky, Teddy snagged her attention as she walked back to the stairwell to ascend the next flight up on her way to her suite. He sought, and gained, her permission to use the entertainment room on the first floor – a heavily soundproofed area of the residence that was Warded to prevent magic being cast in order to be able to use a wide range of Muggle technology – with conditions.

    First, she held up a finger, he was to wash up as his grandmother had requested.

    Second of all, a second finger joined the first, no tampering with the equipment (use was only allowable strictly as the manufacturer had intended).

    Third, another finger shot up, soundproofed room or not, he would be QUIET, as every other occupant was going to be otherwise engaged in personal pastimes, and did not wish to be disturbed.

    Finally, holding up a fourth finger beside the rest, when called for tea there would be no complaining, whining or other protests given and _everything_  was to be put back just as he had found it.

    They solemnly shook on the deal before he scampered off toward his destination, as she made her own way upstairs to snuggle into her plush bedside recliner with a book. As the light faded through her northern-facing window, she clicked her fingers to light the chandelier above her softly.

* * *

 

    Drawn from her perusal of the fictional novel in her lap by a sudden  _CRACK!_  she looked up blankly for a moment before hearing a knock on her door. Softly, she called out, "Come in, Winky." Only a house-elf would bother to Apparate right outside someone's bedroom door, and then knock. She focussed on Winky's apologetic features as the elf entered, nervously twisting her long ears between anxious fingers. It was a holdover from her days of working as the personal house-elf for the Crouch family, a nervous habit that they had tried to gently break her of, but never quite succeeded.

    Small wonder, really, considering her previous master (the harsh and domineering Barty Crouch, Senior), who had held the crazed Death Eater son that was named for him – Barty Crouch, Junior – tucked away like a dirty little secret in the family home for years under the Imperius Curse. All the lies and deceptions that the poor elf had been forced to partake in had taken their toll; it was a wonder that she was even sane, let alone still capable of serving any other family as their elf.

    "What is it, Winky?" she asked kindly, her tone reassuring the twitchy elf that her sudden intrusion had not upset her younger mistress.

    "Miss Arielle, there be a Floo call for you, it be your friend, Miss Granger." The elf announced, visibly calmer now that Ari had shown no displeasure. Ari glanced at the small mahogany clock on her bedside table and noted with vague shock that it was already 6:17pm. Lost in her enjoyment of her book, the time had slipped right by her.

    "It's just as well you stopped in, Winky." She claimed, shifting back to face the industrious little help-mate with a rueful smile. "I completely lost track of the time."

    Winky bowed her head courteously with a broad smile. "Winky is pleased to have been of service, Miss Arielle."

    Ari stood up, stretching her slightly cramped muscles in a long, slow flexion of her supple limbs. Walking to the door, she patted Winky on the head fondly on her way past, speaking over her shoulder. "Thanks, Winky. I'll make sure everyone gets to the dining room on time after I speak with Hermione."

    "Winky has no doubts on Miss Arielle's power to gather everyone right where she wants them," was the sprite's cheeky retort just prior to Disapparating back to the kitchen, before Ari could react. Biting her lip in amused vexation (Winky had quite the sense of humour, once you got past the layers of servile compliance that tended to characterise the majority of house-elves), she made her way down to the formal reception hall on the first floor, where the residence's main Floo connection was situated.

    The mantel over the fireplace had a panel with several runic commands inscribed on it, each designed to respond to a specific set of circumstances. One command functioned in a manner not unlike call forwarding on a telephone – if a Floo summons went unanswered over a prolonged period, the runes activated and redirected the call to a corresponding panel in the kitchen to alert Winky that someone was trying to make contact with the household.

    When Hermione called via the Floo, no one was in the room to respond, so the alert was transferred through to Winky in the kitchen to have her respond to the call. As a known friend of Miss Arielle and a person whose name was present on the list of those allowed to contact the household directly; Winky had accepted the call and greeted Miss Granger with polite respect, informing her that she would let Miss Arielle know directly of her call.

    Ari swept into the hall, crossing the marbled floor to kneel on the rug in front of the Floo to smile at the slightly distorted, greenish features of her best friend in the flames. "Hermione. I wasn't expecting you to call tonight?"

    "Sorry if I disturbed you, Ari."

    "Not at all. You know you're always welcome around here."

    "I know. And I think I STAY welcomed by not wearing it out and making a constant pest of myself."

    "Balls!" was Ari's succinct, inelegant response. Hermione snorted in lively glee.

    "Better not let Andromeda catch you talking like that – she'll have a royal fit. One worthy of the . . ."

    ". . . Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!" they finished in harmony before giggling like the juvenile teenage girls they no longer were, if they ever had been – war had a way of making you grow up fast, too fast. "I didn't want to bother you last night seeing as it was Teddy's first night back from Hogwarts, but I figured I'd get in touch today after your zoo trip to get all the latest gossip from our old stomping grounds," Hermione referring with marked affection to the ancient castle where they had learned so much about magic. Ari had her own fondness for the place, for all the bad times they'd experienced there, there had also been a lot of joy associated with her years inside the ancient stone walls – and outside as well on its sprawling grounds.

    She hummed in disagreement, remarking, "You'll be more up-to-date than I am, I'm sure you received at least double the amount of owl-post from Teddy than I did!" she was pouting slightly in disgust, whose godson was he, after all?

    Hermione sniggered a little, acknowledging the truth in that. "And Draco likely got twice as much as the both of us, combined! He just couldn't wait to tell him everything about what it was like in the 'Viper's Pit' these days." A clear allusion to the Slytherin dorms at the school, noted during THEIR generation for the deep emphasis on the Slytherin House colours of emerald and silver, along with darkened, enamelled panels hanging on the walls alongside gloomy artwork and being furnished in a heavily gothic-inspired fashion. Ari and Hermione knew this from personal experience, despite having been sorted into Slytherin's traditional rival house of Gryffindor. One of their many misadventures – this one taking place during their second year – had seen them sneaking into the Slytherin's common room in disguise.

    Suddenly impatient with being crouched forward on her knees in front of the fireplace, Ari gestured invitingly to Hermione. "Bugger all this kneeling around! It's teatime around here so come on through and join us, the others certainly won't mind, and Teddy will love it! Having his dearly beloved Miss Hermione right on the spot to chatter about Charms, huddle about Herbology, trade tales of Transfiguration . . ."

    "Enough! Enough with the elementary alliteration please, I surrender," Hermione called out, jokingly lifting her hands in a gesture of submission. "I hope Winky doesn't mind having an unexpected guest for tea."

    "She knows us too well, Mio," Ari used the affectionate diminutive reassuringly. "Trust me, she's already put an extra portion into the oven – she'll be most upset if you  _don't_  come!"

    Hermione laughed out a sigh of agreement – the little bonded servant DID know them, but she checked anyway for politeness' sake. "Just make sure you ask her, though. It's only common courtesy, after all."

    Ari nodded as Hermione cut off the Floo-call, in preparation for transporting herself through the magical flames – Ari stood quickly to access the master list placed on the mantel, tapping her finger on Hermione's name and seeing it glow before she tapped a set of runes on the command panel. This particular array governed admittance into the residence via the Floo – if you weren't permitted entry by an authorised member of the household you didn't get in, plain and simple.

    Any attempt at an unauthorised entry set off an alarm that alerted first Winky, and then was set to reverberate throughout the whole house if Winky hadn't first responded to the alarm and seen to it that there was either no threat, or acted to disarm any hostile force that may have broken through the Wards – highly improbable, the Black's Ancestral Wards were known to be lethal when under attack. But still, all magic cast could be broken eventually, it just depended on how much time and effort you were prepared to expend. Once satisfied that the household was safe, Winky could disable the alert at the source.

    Winky might have been just one elf, small and seemingly harmless; but Ari had seen elves who were highly motivated in the defence of their homes and their masters – elves were not powerless unless they themselves CHOSE to be. She would never underestimate them, and would always respect their abilities and tireless, often thankless, service to their bonded families. She called Winky, hearing the crack of her Apparition as the elf appeared in the room. "Yes, Miss Arielle, how may Winky serve?"

    "Winky, would you mind terribly if we had another guest for tea? I know it's  _very_  short notice, and I do apologise, but I've invited Hermione over for tea. I thought she and Teddy could catch up."

    Bobbing her head excitedly so that her long, batlike ears flapped madly, almost slapping her in the face on every downward swing, Winky clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, Miss Arielle. Young Master Teddy will be ever so happy to see his friend! Winky was so bold as to hope that Miss Arielle would have Miss Granger for dinner, and put on more food. Winky is ever so happy that it won't be going to waste."

    "Now Winky, we would never waste your lovely cooking, it would be a crime to see your talents spoiled," Ari replied. "If there was too much left over after you'd had your share, we'd simply have bubble-and-squeak the next day for lunch – you know that." Just then, the Floo lit up again in a  _whoosh_  of green flame, as a form appeared inside spinning madly before slowing down as the flames slowly died away, revealing Hermione Granger in the flesh.

    Wild brunette curls worn halfway down her back framed a pretty, strong-boned face with intelligent bitter-chocolate eyes. Of average height with a curvy frame, Hermione could walk into a room and capture the attention of all within it immediately; she simply had the intangible gift of  _presence_.

    Stepping out of the fireplace, she brushed off any stray soot on her robes as she went to Ari, crushing her in her embrace. They exchanged fond greetings – once Ari's battered lungs were able to absorb oxygen adequately once more – as Hermione acknowledged Winky kindly.

    Winky bobbed her head happily in Hermione's direction – despite her rather strange notions (freeing elves and having them work for pay, preposterous! Blasphemy!) Winky nearly rolled her eyes and snorted at the very idea of such a scandalous arrangement – Winky was genuinely fond of Miss Arielle's loyal friend, she had a good, loving heart, and she spoiled Master Teddy with affectionate abandon. Yes, Miss Granger was good people, Winky thought to herself with an inward nod, before she shook herself back to the present, dismissing herself with a respectful bow and Disapparating.

    Ari led the way from the reception room, indicating to Hermione that Teddy was to be found in the entertainment room if Hermione should like to fetch him for tea. Hermione would indeed like. Ari grinned in anticipation as she headed down the steps to find Andra reclined on the couch in her personal parlour – no one, not even Teddy, was bold enough to enter Andra's bedroom without her express consent. Nymphadora Tonks hadn't inherited her ruthless streak from her laidback, Hufflepuff alumnus father, after all. She was dozing lightly as Ari entered, waking as she laid her hand gently on the older woman's shoulder.

    "Dinner will be ready once we're seated, Andra." Ari explained her presence softly as Andra pulled herself upright, sitting momentarily to allow the last vestiges of sleep clear out of her mind, and standing once she was fully awake. "We also have an extra place at the table tonight, I've invited Hermione over," Ari tacked on the last as they moved towards the door.

    "Oh? Teddy will be ecstatic," Andra replied as they navigated the stairs.

    "She Floo-ed earlier to chat and I made an impulse decision – shocking, I know," Ari laughed as Andra cocked her brow. "I'm hoping Teddy won't be cranky with his godmother-in-all-but-name around . . ." Teddy's sudden shrill scream of delight echoed through the house, clearly Hermione had alerted him to her presence. ". . . To keep him grounded," Ari finished drily.

    "Grounded? If there wasn't a ceiling above his head, he'd have propelled himself straight to the moon by now," Andra quipped as they waited at the door to the first floor parlour for the others to join them. Their impending presence was announced with Teddy's piping voice gabbling away happily to Hermione as they ambled down the hall, Hermione smiling in greeting to Andra as they joined them.

    Teddy flung himself at Ari, hugging her waist as he announced in ringing tones, "Look, Aunty Ari, Miss Hermione's come 'round for tea."

    "Really? Why Hermione . . ." grinning at each other over Teddy's head, ". . . I didn't know you were coming, did Winky let you in?"

    Teddy caught onto their gammon and rolled his eyes, releasing Ari's waist and taking his grandmother's hand to escort her through to the dining room. "Great! Just great, now there are TWO of them to gang up on me tonight." Andra chuckled warmly as Teddy pulled out her chair for her, and seated herself as he tucked in her chair again before he sat down to her right, huffily drawing himself in and turning up his nose. Ari strolled through the door with the whimsical twinkle in her eyes echoed in Hermione's as she followed behind, seating themselves in place.

    "Relax, Twitch . . ."

    ". . . Tonight is about our friends." Hermione finished Ari's statement.

    "We're finally even now . . ."

    ". . . Two Gryffindors, and two Slytherins sitting at one table without bloodshed – this IS a special occasion." It was Ari's turn to finish where Hermione had left off.

    Teddy's head swivelled between them, eyes narrowed, before he leaned back, crossed his thin arms over his chest and twitched his nose. His hair suddenly turned a bright shade of ginger, reminiscent of – "You two are as bad as the twins." The twins in question, being the self-entitled 'dynamic duo' – Fred and George Weasley, identical down to their last freckle and older brothers to Teddy's late godfather, Ron.

    Ari swallowed around the lump in her throat – an ugly mixture of bitterness, grief, and a raw, seething hatred that arose at every mention, every memory of Ron and of the Weasley clan in general. She had LOVED them so, and nearly all of them had seemingly found it so easy to betray her trust. The twins themselves and Ginny had been loyal to the core, to  _her,_  but the worst part had been the revelation that Ron – the gangly, hot-headed youth that she had called her friend ever since their first year in Hogwarts – while steadfast and committed at the end, hadn't started out that way.

* * *

 

_Everything she had ever said, every secret she had offered to him,_ _IN CONFIDENCE,_ _had been unerringly reported to others right up until the end of her fifth year. Her faith was repaid in duplicity, her right to privacy denied at every turn by those who wanted to use her for their own selfish, greedy ends._   _Upon discovering his treachery she had broken down and wept bitterly in the arms of her heretofore rival Draco Malfoy, who had revealed the ugly facts to her in such a way that she could not deny them, decry them, as mere hearsay coming from someone she considered an unreliable source._

_Coming on the heels of the death of Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, Ari couldn't cope – she collapsed into Draco's embrace crying, nearly screaming, out in her anguish. He held her closely, his cheek resting atop her head as she howled and thrashed like a child in the midst of a furious tantrum. If only it were that easy to deal with, this pain was deeper, sharper, and could not be appeased with an offer of sweets or bribes for good behaviour. He held on silently throughout the storm of her broken heart as she subsided finally, lying quietly in his arms. Then, and only then, did he speak, reminding her of her_ _REAL_   _friends: Hermione, Neville, Luna, even the red-haired Weaslette . . . the list went on if only she would see it . . ._ _HIM_ _._

_She looked up at him, tear-brightened emerald eyes piercing him as he spoke of an end to the tyranny of the Dark Lord and his twisted followers, of the need for allies within His Inner Circle in order to defeat Him from the inside out._ She listened.

* * *

 

    "The twins have got nothing on us," Hermione proclaimed, buffing her nails idly against her robes.

    Ari grinned toothily. "They got their best ideas from US, and we were the pranksters to watch out for in Hogwarts. The only difference was that we rarely, if ever, got caught, because the greatest prank of all was pulling the wool over everyone's eyes – with the twins on the loose, they were suspected for every trick. No matter who it was that was REALLY behind it.

    "And of course, the Prankster's Code of Honour meant that you never ratted out your fellow jokesters, so even if you got caught for something you didn't do, you had to wear the punishment without complaint.

    "It didn't mean that they never tried to get us back on the sly, though. George swears that he couldn't get the frog spleen out from under his fingernails for a month after the 'Great Undies Raid of '93'. Snape was always diabolical when it came to detention, especially if you were sorted into Gryffindor."

    With that, the tone for the evening was set, even Andra relaxed and got into the spirit – sharing stories from her years at Hogwarts, laughing as raucously as any of them at some of the funnier points of their tales. By the end of dessert – a decadent strawberry mousse – everyone was pleasantly stuffed, and Teddy was all but comatose, sprawled loose-limbed and utterly lax in his chair.

    "I think someone's ready for bed." Ari claimed, smiling at the heavy-eyed boy even as he struggled to wake himself up a bit.

    "No Aunt Ari, I can stay up with Miss Hermione . . ."

    ". . . Cheer up, possum," Hermione spoke up with brisk sympathy. "We have the whole summer holidays to find time to spend together. You know, I'll bet by the time you're due back at Hogwarts for your second year, you'll be absolutely sick of seeing my face."

    "Never," was the drowsy mumble. "I always like seeing you, Miss Hermione – you make me laugh."

    "Well, now I certainly know my place." Hermione laughed as Ari rounded the table to prod and encourage Teddy out of his chair. "Free entertainment for Master Teddy Lupin."

    Teddy grinned tiredly, leaning over to brush his grandmother's cheek with his own before all but falling into Hermione's lap as he went to hug her tight. She hugged him back, soundly smooching his cheek as he somehow found the energy to wriggle indignantly. "Hey!" he protested loudly – kisses from girls were still icky in Teddy's book, even his special girls.

    Letting go as he scrambled up, Hermione exchanged grins with the other two women as he frantically scrubbed at his cheek to remove all traces of the dreaded 'girly cooties' that all females apparently possessed. Ari gently herded him towards the door as he called out a general farewell over his shoulder. Ari looked back to Andra, who mouthed that she and Hermione would be in the parlour when she returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, had to cut it off there as the chapter length just got too much. Next up, tales of vampires and strange dreams . . . please let me know what you think :)


	4. Chapter 3: Witches, Wolves & Vampires (Oh my!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Girl's Night in . . . complete with scary tales of the supernatural, and board games, of course ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See first chapter.  
> Sorry . . . a week later than I'd planned to be, but I've been busily typing away. I will post the next chapter tomorrow to make up for it, enjoy :D

Chapter 3: Witches, Wolves & Vampires (Oh my!)

    Having safely tucked Teddy into bed and watched as he fell asleep practically before his tousled head hit the fluffy pillows, Ari was back down into the parlour to find the two witches engrossed in a conversation –about  _vampires_  of all things. Sinking into a recliner, she simply relaxed and listened as Hermione recounted a tale from her work as a Liaison to the British Ambassador for the Magical Nations.

    It really was the ideal career for the driven, highly intelligent young woman: her passion for learning as well as her desire to investigate, and potentially improve, the lives of the vast assortment of magical beings within their world was more than satisfied by the requirements of an aide to an international ambassador. The opportunity to travel to other countries under a diplomatic flag, and immerse herself into the magical culture and traditions while not being limited by the diplomatic duties an ambassador was bound to undertake, was not to be discounted either.

    Hermione had just recently returned last month from a placement in Germany, based primarily in Frankfurt and travelling throughout the country, taking in the ethnic diversity and historic customs and rituals carried on by the peoples of modern Magical Germany. Apparently, whilst on a working tour of Dresden, travelling alongside a nomadic dwarven tribe that tended to find places of great artistic significance to settle into for a time, incorporating designs and concepts from the area that appealed to them before moving on; they had encountered a crew from the local vampire population. Ari listened along with Andra as Hermione told the story . . .

* * *

 

 _They squared off, with Hermione managing to prove to their satisfaction – and Hermione's own great relief – that, in a supernatural pissing contest, Hermione and her allies could well and truly hold their own. The dwarves, along with Hermione, were invited into a local bar – neutral territory, so the vampires (three females and two males) had declared - to chat and get to know each other. As the night progressed, Hermione had observed an interesting piece of jewellery, a bangle, on Anneke's (one of the females) wrist. What rendered this piece unusual to Hermione was the large chunk of lapis lazuli set in it as only one type of vampire had an affinity with that gemstone, in particular. Those that the British Wizarding World labelled as the_ Sange Elevi _, supposedly descended from the very first of their kind – the Originals, the elite_ Medeisangui Corte -  _rumoured to have been created by Dark Blood Magic._

 _Lapis lazuli, when Enchanted by a Witch and worn against the body of a Sangevin (a slang term), guarded the vampire against the sunlight which was lethal to their kind. Anneke seemed to recognise Hermione in turn – if not at first sight then as more of Hermione's past came to light, she had a sudden revelation – proclaiming, "I know her," in front of everyone in the mixed group. "Or, of her at least, Granger . . ." she looked Hermione over carefully._  " _Of course, Granger was the name of that girl, that_ Englisch  _girl, who fought in the British Blood War against that supremacist bunch with the stupid name – Death Tasters, or something. She was the ally of their Chosen One, another little girl named Potter. So typical of the_ Englisch _, make a mess and expect children to clean up after them." She shook her head in contempt._

 _Having established Hermione's credentials as a war heroine, even if she was only_ Englisch _, the vampires relaxed further – joking and laughing about having considered the idea of fighting in the war – it was a_ Blood _War_ _, after all; they never actually spoke of which side they'd intended to fight for, Hermione was careful to note, but they were warned to be distant and neutral in the British conflict by one of the leaders of their world: Klaus._

* * *

 

    Ari snapped her head abruptly to Hermione at that, "Klaus?" her swift movement and sudden question catching both females attention as Hermione lifted a brow in query.

    "Yeah, they said his name was Klaus. Why?" she caught Ari's eyes, a little puzzled by the faraway expression in them. "What's wrong, Ari?"

    "That name, I feel as if I've heard it before – recently." Ari mumbled, only half-aware of the others as she wracked her brains for the vague recollection.

    "It's certainly not a common name these days, unless you're in Germany, Switzerland or the like," Hermione commented thoughtfully, brows furrowed as she surveyed her friend, obviously lost in thought.

    Suddenly, the metaphorical light-bulb clicked on in Ari's mind. "You won't believe just how random this is, but I had this weird dream last night . . ." she described some of her visions from the previous night, spinning a tale of magic and murder, witches, wolves and vampires (oh my!), and a blonde man named Niklaus, who was no mere Vampire, alongside of his siblings. Looking back at her companions, she was taken aback slightly to find the pair staring at her with identical expressions of slack-jawed astonishment. "What?" They continued to stare, unblinkingly. "WHAT?"

    Andra closed her jaw with a snap, and shook her head in disbelief as Hermione finally recovered enough to croak in awe, "You had a dream about a period roughly a thousand years ago, judging by the mode of dress," holding up her hand as Ari nodded unsurely. "Where you saw five siblings – one of whom was named Niklaus – four males, one female, who appear to be vampires."

    Ari gestured tensely, "You've hit the highlights so far."

    "You had a full-fledged 'vision', in your sleep, about the Originals – THE Original family, in the flesh as it were – a thousand years ago."

    Ari slumped back against the headrest, rolling her eyes. "Is there a point to your reiteration of the facts as I have laid them out for you?" Ignoring Andra's slight huff at her discourteousness, Ari closed her eyes. "If there IS a point, feel free to elaborate at any time because I'm a little lost. I've NEVER had a dream like that, not even when . . ." she paused, sharing a loaded glance with Hermione.

    ". . . Not even when you were sharing a mind with the late, unlamented Thomas Riddle, Junior?" Hermione finished softly.

    "And I haven't had any dreams like  _those_ ever since I turned the snaky bugger into garden compost, either," Ari retorted, suddenly furious. "So why now?" she sat upright again, angry and confused, appealing to them. "Why would I have dreams about people straight out of legend that I've never met, dreams that make me feel like I was actually THERE?"

    Andra sighed. "That is not something I can answer on my part, but I do remember something from the Library. I do not know if it will help you, but it could offer more information than we currently have. Excuse me for just one moment, please." She stood and exited the room as they stared after her. Turning back, Ari shrugged to show her incomprehension of the older woman's plans as she hopped up to pace, suddenly filled with nervous energy.

    Hermione watched her: stride, halt, and pivot, stalk, stop, and then turn and start the cycle over. Finally, slightly dizzy, she decided to ask the question burning on her tongue. "So, seeing as you were  _there_ , in the dream anyway-" she hastened to add as Ari shot her a look that screamed 'Are you high?', "-What were you thinking when you watched them?"

    Ari stopped pacing, exhaling heavily as she considered the question, and how to respond. Her brows knitted together as she struggled to define the whirlwind of emotions that she had experienced throughout the vivid dream. She slumped back into her chair, deep in thought. "It's all mixed up – in my mind, in here." She pressed her fisted hand against her chest as though she was trying to keep her heart from bursting through her ribcage. "I loved them, all of them,  _so much_.

    "So much sadness when I looked at them, the five, and realised that there was someone missing, someone I remembered as being precious to me . . ." she trailed off as her jewel-like eyes met Hermione's deep gaze. ". . . But I don't remember who is missing. I couldn't even tell you if it was a girl or a boy that should have been there alongside them."

    Her face suddenly hardened, tightening into unforgiving lines as she spat through tightened lips, "I'm ANGRY, so disappointed with them – how could they? How could they just watch . . ." they were interrupted by Andra's return, holding an old book triumphantly in her hand, waggling it in the air.

    "I KNEW it had to be in there somewhere. That library has books on everything, I tell you."

    "I thought you didn't like the Black Library, Andra." Ari arched her brows in surprise as Andra laid the bound leather journal across her lap and knelt beside the recliner to flick the pages to the section she'd wanted Ari to see. As ever, when confronted with books, the self-confessed bibliophile Hermione was in. She nestled on the arm of Ari's recliner in order to see the pages as Andra rifled through them.

    Stopping on a certain page, she indicated for Ari to read it. Ari saw the page title: Medeisangui Corte – The Origins of the Blood-Born, and beneath was the sub-heading: A History of the Original Family. She looked askance at Andra, who just waved her on. Staring back down at the page she read silently.

  _'The New World was filled with great magic, of man and beasts alike, when the Viking couple who would later come to create the blood-cursed Originals sailed to its shores with their young son, over a thousand years ago. Much of the records of that period have been lost over the years, but the legends have remained._

_'Loose pages taken from a private journal, that of a witch identified only as Ayana, form a partial account of the early human lives of the Original family. For Ayana claimed to be a mentor and close confidant of the woman she named as Esther, the wife of Mikael, and the mother to those who would become the vampires of legend._

_'Alongside other families, they built a settlement and lived in peace with their neighbours – men and women who became wolves, savage and predatory, with the rise of the full moon. Alongside their firstborn, they had several other children who survived their infancy, and continued to live in peace – as the full moon ascended in the heavens; the villagers retreated to the safety of the nearby network of caves, waiting out the beasts that roamed the lands._

_'Tragedy struck, and the peace was broken when their youngest son, Henrik . . .'_

    "Henrik," Ari murmured to herself, thinking, 'That's who was missing, Henrik was not there,' before returning to the text.

 _'. . . Henrik, w_ _ho had snuck out of the caves to secretly witness the turning of the werewolves, was carried home bloodied and lifeless in the arms of his older brother, Niklaus, who had accompanied the boy in the hopes of protecting him from his folly – a wish in vain, as it turned out. Henrik was killed, and his family struck down in their shared grief. Soon, the father's mourning switched to thoughts of vengeance against the murderous beasts. Mikael went to his wife, and demanded of her, "Where they are strong, we must be stronger. When they use their speed, we shall be faster. And when they bite,_ we will bite back harder _. Speed, agility, senses. Everything must become more than it was."_

_'He asked this of his wife, Esther, and her dearest friend Ayana because they were both powerful witches, and surely their combined magic could uncover a solution. Ayana refused, her duty as a servant of nature was clear – the magic that he spoke of turned against nature, his words spoke of Mikael's pride and lust for revenge._

_'Thwarted, Esther was forced to act alone: she created a Spell that called on the power of the sun that granted life to all things; summoned the strength of the great White Oak, a symbol of immortality; and shed a mortal's blood, a potent Charm to bind her family together as one._

_'But, there are rumours that claim that it was not so – some of the pages from Ayana's journal refer to another witch who lived in the wilderness beyond the village's borders. A wild thing herself, fey and reclusive, she rarely entered the village proper unless she was assisting the local coven in rituals and healing. According to Ayana, she was known to help other villagers in times of great need. The extract below is taken directly from a page of Ayana's journal, in reference to this witch . . ._

_'"Anyone who seeks her within the woods may only find her if their need is genuine – for this witch is unlike any other, she is a creature of light, pure and free."_

_'Not much is known about her, not where she came from or how she came to live by the village, nor even whether she may have been the one to perform the Spell that birthed the_ _Medeisangui Corte_ _, the Blood-Born from whom all lesser_ _Sange Elevi_ _, their blood progeny, are descended. But, Ayana claims that she was close to Mikael's sons and daughter, particularly the youngest boy, Henrik, lost to the wolves; and that she disappeared not long after his death, right around the time that the Originals came into being. According to Ayana, no sign of her presence was left in the woods any longer – she had vanished without trace.'_

    There was more on the page, but it was an account of the Originals later years once they had travelled back to Old-World Europe, so Ari leaned back slowly, processing what she had just read on the page. Hermione stared off into space blankly, trying to make sense of it all. Ari tapped the book suddenly. "Andra, what is this book?"

    Andra winced slightly. "A treatise from the Black Family Library on the study, and practice, of Bloode Magick."

    Ari groaned in disgust. "Andra..."

    "I knew that you would react like this, which is why I waited until you had read it to say anything."

    Ari just looked at her. "Can you blame me?" Bloode Magick, indeed. It seemed to follow her around like a bad smell from her earliest days: her mother had, apparently, worked a powerful Charm based on their shared blood to protect her from Voldemort; Lily's  _sacrifice_  was used to create the infamous Blood Wards at Privet Drive that had held her prisoner inside that little house of horrors; Lily's sacrificial magic supposedly remained within her blood, alternately saving her (Quirrel), and condemning her (Voldemort's return to a corporeal form was achieved with her stolen blood); as well as acting like a beacon for every supernatural creep and freak she came across.

* * *

 

 _In her sixth year, the vampire Sanguini had moved toward her like lightning once her scent had drifted to his nose. He'd had her by the throat before anyone had even seen him move, only her swift wand-work ripping him away from her as she blasted him at point-blank range with a full-fledged_ _Banishing_ _Charm. It had taken the efforts of a half-dozen strong young males from amongst the party guests – Neville and Draco were two of them – to hold him away from her as he strained to get to her, eyes darkened and fangs extended as he groaned, "The blood, the_ _BLOOD_ _, give it to me," over and over. Needless to say, her attendance at Horace Slughorn's Christmas party was short-lived and not merry at all._

 _Werewolves had problems with her scent as well – they wanted to eat her, and not in a good way. Apparently, she provoked their most basic, atavistic instincts: fight, feed, and fuck. Remus had explained it to her once, during the Christmas holidays of her fifth year, to try and help her to understand just why he had avoided her so urgently for the first part of her third year when he had been the teacher for_ _Defence Against the Dark Arts_ _. He had wanted so badly to get to know her, and to let her know him in return, but every time he went near her he had felt his wolf side rise up to the surface – trying to strike out, to claim her as prey, to kill and feast. Constantly dosing himself with the Wolfsbane Potion had apparently helped, enough so that by the time that she had approached him about anti-Dementor lessons, he was more in control of his inner beast. The Dementors, of course, were a whole other complication – supposedly, her aura attracted the vile creatures by the dozens._

 _She shuddered in revulsion; her experiences at the hands of the cold, soul-stealing abominations had left her with a distaste she felt for few other people or species in the world: if she ever discovered a method or device capable of destroying a Dementor, she would not hesitate to employ it to see to the complete extinction of the creatures. She_ loathed _them._

* * *

 

    She blinked back to the present as Andra spread her hands in a self-deprecating fashion. "No. I am sure that the entire subject is more than a bit of a sore point for you – considering your history."

    Andra didn't know the half of it; she thought wryly, almost no one did. Hermione had most of the facts, but even she wasn't privy to the entire horror story. As much as Ari loved and trusted her friend with just about everything, some secrets were better left unspoken. Ari had always been a very private person, anyway.

    She closed the book firmly, handing it over to Hermione with a fond eye-roll at the latter's huff of dismay – she would read anything and everything she could lay her hands on, no matter the topic. Hermione chuffed contentedly, hopping up from her perch to curl back up on the couch with her prize. Humming to herself, she opened it to read through from the start as her companions watched her with knowing amusement.

    "Well, that explains it, then." Ari clapped her hands together in an 'Aha' motion.

    "It does?" Andra and Hermione chorused in unison, as the latter peered over the top of the book in query.

    "Sirius gave me permission to access the family archives back in '95," Ari explained. "I told him I was looking for any information on Blood Magic that I could lay my hands on. The ultimate goal was to find a way to get myself away from the Dursleys-" here her two listeners gave identical shivers and grimaces of distaste (they had each heard enough on the subject of Ari's so-called relatives to form a highly unfavourable opinion of the family). "-And I figured that if anyone would have that kind of information tucked away, the Blacks would be high on the list, given their history of, err, delving into the more obscure and shadowy Arts," Ari finished.

    She shrugged her shoulders casually. "I must have read literally hundreds of texts – and some of them were truly revolting, by the way – on the effects and history of it all, obviously I never found what I was looking for in the end.

    "But I must have read that one-" indicating the journal in Hermione's hands, "-And retained just enough of the information subconsciously to give myself the willies."

    "And it took over a decade for your, er,  _willies_ , as you put it, to manifest in a dream?" was Hermione's sceptical rejoinder as she eyed her quizzically.

    "If you have another explanation," Ari waved her hand encouragingly. "You perceive me all ears."

    Though both Andra and Hermione remained doubtful, no other logical explanation presented itself as a case for demurral, and though Ari's provided scenario was dubious at best, it WAS still possible.

    Laughing at Andra's pursed lips as she clearly tried to come up with a rebuttal, Ari swiped her hand through the air as if to cut through the serious atmosphere. "Come on, ladies. Enough with the heavy topics for tonight – it was JUST a dream – Teddy's out for the evening, and there's a Magical Monopoly board set up with the game we still haven't finished from the last time you were here," to Hermione who grinned ruefully. "And if I recall correctly, YOU-" to Andra with a mischievous smirk, "-Found yourself in a bit of a sticky situation on one of my properties," she finished, grinning toothily in anticipation.

    Groaning, but gracefully accepting the change of subject nonetheless, they pulled out the game and settled around the coffee table in the centre of the room, ready to engage in spirited combat over the board once more.

    The rest of the evening passed with much laughter, banter and gossip as they battled it out in the magical real estate game, wheeling and dealing, no one giving an inch as they competed light-heartedly. They left aside the topic of strange dreams and ancient legends that surely could have no impact on their lives in modern Magical Britain. After all, as Ari had said, it was only a dream...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ooooh, foreshadowing! The next chapter will have a time-skip, and hopefully finally get the plot moving, so fingers crossed. Also, I have used some terms in this chapter that more than likely have most of you scratching your head saying, "WTF?". It's okay to be confused, I've been making up some terms purely for the sake of the story – just check below for the definitions.
> 
> P.S. In case anyone's wondering about my reference to there being different types of vampires known to the magical world, then there are two for the sake of my fic. The Originals and their descendants, of course, and for the other kind (which I'm making Sanguini a member of) just think of True Blood style vampires – the ones who explode into nasty goo when killed, and the whole "V" blood drug deal.
> 
> Translations
> 
> Englisch (German): English
> 
> Sange Elevi (Romanian): (literal) Blood Progeny– referencing the later generations of vampires sired and descended from the Originals
> 
> Medeisangui Corte (this is my twisted version of some Latin words) see below
> 
> Medeis: magic. Sanguis: blood, power. Cortus: birth, origin, rising
> 
> Basically, my way of referring to how the Originals came into being – magic caused them to arise from their mortal human origins, and be reborn as the very first of their kind, powerful beings driven by their thirst for human blood.


	5. Chapter 4: Enforcer Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ghosts of Arielle's forgotten past come back to haunt her - literally, and they are no longer willing to be ignored. A day in the life . . . and a battle against evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See first chapter  
> Warnings: There is a fair bit of gore in this one guys, blood, guts and violence, death, etc. So if that sort of thing makes you queasy, you might want to skip this one. If battles are your thing, however, please read on and tell me what you think. Right? Wrong? Boring? Every opinion counts, guys, believe me - I'm listening to what you're telling me.

Early August 2009 

London, England 

    She was almost gasping for air as she struggled to get free of the tangle of her bedclothes, thrashing and rolling around frantically as she tried desperately to get away from she knew not what. Finally, she was out and off the bed, staring about her room as if she'd never seen it before in her life.

    Slowly, her breathing calmed and quieted, and her heart stopped trying to beat straight out of her chest as she stared at her hands held out in front of her, willing them to stop trembling. A convulsive shudder went through her as she remembered her dream – so many emotions crammed into such a short space of time – as though she had lived a lifetime in one night. Snorting out a disbelieving laugh, she shook her head in wonder: ever since the first night when she'd had  _that dream_ , it had continued, exactly the same every night for the past five weeks. Until last night. Last night, it had changed.

    Lying back down on the bed, she turned her head to see the clock. 4:16am. Grumbling in annoyance, she rolled onto her stomach and pulled her pillow over her head – she didn't have to get up for work for another four hours yet, and damned if she was going to let some  _stupid dream_  stop her from being rested and ready for the day.

* * *

 

    Arielle pushed back from her desk, blowing out a breath in sheer boredom. Generally, she loved her job as an Enforcer for the Magical Agency for Global Investigation against Crime, but at times like these, she wondered why.

    The M.A.G.I.C. had come into being after the British Blood War, as it was known on the international scene – Voldemort's recruiting campaign had extended far beyond the British Isles, and his efforts hadn't gone unnoticed. Though many politicians and government officials from other countries had seemed to toe the official Party line – the war was an internal matter, to be handled by the British Ministry of Magic, and certainly no affair of any other magical nation – the reality was, they had known just how close it truly was in the end.

* * *

 

_Thomas Riddle's ambitions were not to be satisfied by the takeover of a mere country – he wanted the world. If the war hadn't ended when it did, then mainland Magical Europe at least was looking down the barrel of a major catastrophe. Pureblood sympathisers and assorted magical beings (especially those labelled as Dark) were forming insurrectionist groups within their respective countries, and even beyond. Some flocked to Great Britain, to fight under the banner of Riddle and the Death Eaters._

_The situation had seemed hopeless – any proposed intervention by the ICW was limited by their lack of a martial force assigned to them in order to back up their sanctions. All magical law enforcement squads were restricted by national borders – a French Auror had no authority inside England or vice-versa, for example, unless he was officially liaised to the British DMLE, in which case his authority would still have been quite provisional and temporary._

_Once the Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry, and set up their own version of government, the circumstances had been dire for any resistance. They were hunted by the full resources of their own Ministry, and outside help was no certainty, not even on an unofficial level. Officially, any military action on British soil by a foreign nation that wasn't approved by the Ministry could be classed as a hostile act, a prelude to war. Almost all of the other magical governments were extremely reluctant to take such drastic measures – and it was hard to blame them._

_Everything changed, once the rebellion was finally finished with the death of Voldemort, at the hands of the then-teenaged Arielle Potter. As relieved as they were to see the conflict over, the idea that a young girl had been placed in the position of having to fight such a battle – and then for her to succeed in the face of overwhelming odds – was something of a slap in the face to the powers-that-be._

_She was invited to attend, and speak, at many international conferences held afterwards alongside others involved in the fight, detailing their experiences throughout the conflict, and its aftermath. From these meetings and the facts revealed therein, the seeds had been sown. The simple fact was that they needed an armed force that was legally empowered to bypass national borders if necessary. Globalisation wasn't a myth anymore – the world was almost literally at one's doorstep now. They already had the Confederation for international relations and diplomatic issues – a squad dedicated to enforcing international regulations and the rights of all magical citizens surely wasn't so farfetched._

_Thus, the_ _**M**_ _agical_ _**A**_ _gency for_ _**G**_ _lobal_ _**I**_ _nvestigation against_ _**C**_ _rime was born. It took years, but they finally got there in the end. By early 2002, the first stages of the program were up and running. Law officials already serving in their respective nation's DMLE were recruited for their individual skills and qualities to become international enforcement Officers. Each magical nation in the ICW was represented by mid-2003, and generally, their country of origin was where each Officer was officially based. For the trainee recruits, before they were promoted as full Officers, each were set to undergo an intensive training and evaluation program to determine their suitability for the profession. There were many aspects: combat techniques; weapons training; physical and psychological assessments, amongst several other tests._

_There were two main roles within the organisation once you had passed: Agents were investigators, for the most part, taking cases within their assigned region that were suspected of having possible links to other countries. Also, any matter brought to the attention of the ICW involving two or more nations, and was deemed serious enough, could be referred to the Agency for further investigation._

_An Enforcer, on the other hand, could be compared to a Hit-Wizard. They actively hunted the witches, wizards and creatures that were designated as suspects in violent crimes, those who were considered too dangerous to remain at large for too long, posing a threat to the general public. There was some overlap, of course, between the two factions, but most of the Officers in such cases simply decided to share duties. They analysed the facts pertaining to the issue and hopefully, in matters involving serious crimes, finally gained the evidence and opportunity that they needed to apprehend the offenders._

* * *

 

    Arielle's career, much like Hermione's, had afforded her many opportunities to travel to other countries on an official passport, and she had taken full advantage of her chance to see other places and meet other people, whether magical or not. She had forged lasting relationships with many of them, forming a network of allies and friends that she had called upon in the past for assistance in her work, and offering her support and influence in return when needed.

    Gilderoy Lockhart may have boasted in his books of: Gadding with Ghouls, Marauding with Monsters, and of death-defying Voyages with Vampires etc, but Arielle had actually lived the experience. She had both bonded, and battled, with Banshees in Berlin; trash-talked in Tuscany with Titan Trolls; and vanquished  _Vingt-Et-Un_ with vampires in Vegas. How was that for advanced alliteration, Mr Lockhart, thank you very much?

    When a MAGIC Officer wasn't officially assigned to a case, they were still required to act as law enforcement officials under the aegis of their local Ministry, in Arielle's case, this was the British DMLE. She had a minimum requirement of 15 hours per week that she had to report in person to the Ministry as a Liaison Auror, as long as she wasn't on active missions for the M.A.G.I.C. Her duties as such could involve patrolling locations like Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley; criminal investigations and/or interrogations; or serving a range of warrants to civilians; but for the most part, it involved paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork to be completed at her desk, just as she was doing now.

    Or had been, before pushing away to take a short break. She was bored. A bored Arielle was  _never_  a good thing, the other officers of the DMLE had learned that (the whole Ministry had learned), often to their detriment. The last time Arielle had been this fed-up Gawain Robards – Head of the Auror Office – had found himself under attack from a band of Cornish Pixies that had mysteriously appeared in his office. He had raced out of there, screaming like a lunatic, with his robes half torn off – but he'd made the fatal error of not closing the door behind him. It took the on-duty Aurors hours to not only round up and cage the devilish imps, but also to restore the Department back to its original order after the Pixies had whizzed through, leaving their usual trail of destruction in their wake. Another time, Kingsley Shacklebolt – Minister for Magic – had almost had a fit when, upon addressing a meeting of the Department Heads, every 'head' appeared to him to take on the guise of one magical creature after the other. Robards had the face of a Hippogriff; Aurelia Sternes – Chief Witch of the Wizengamot – was a Goblin, and so on. Nothing had ever been proven, but everyone had breathed a big sigh of relief once Ari was back to her regular duties again.

    Her contemplation of possible mayhem was interrupted by a brisk tapping on the side of her cubicle as a familiar face popped around the open-ended partition.

    "Thomas!"

    Dean Thomas, Ari's former year-mate and fellow Gryffindor alumnus, had graduated the Auror Academy two years before Arielle had completed her training for the M.A.G.I.C., and they had worked together quite a few times over the years on a wide range of cases for both departments.

    "I hate to ask a question with an obvious answer, but are you currently free right now?" Dean questioned, eyebrows raised as he took in Ari's current position (feet propped on her desk, slouched down in her chair with her hands clasped on her stomach as she stared at him).

    "You're still hanging out for that date then, Thomas?"

    "Ha, ha," was his dry response to her wit, even as he grinned. "Although, if you're free tonight, I do know this great little Italian restaurant in Soho . . ." trailing off suggestively.

    She rolled her eyes, smirking at him. "You do remember the last time you tried to hook up with me, don't you, Dean?" she didn't have to spell it out for him, as Dean's coffee-coloured skin turned a bit sallow at the memory. Fragmented images passed in front of his mind's eye, flashes of a little boy wielding a very sharp sword that he shouldn't have been able to lift, let alone wave around the way that he had.

    "Your godson hates me," was all he could croak out past the sudden tightness in his throat.

    "Teddy doesn't hate you –  _Ginny_  hated you, and she told us all the horror stories about your breakup while Teddy was eavesdropping. It was for the best, y'know," she said consolingly. "If you didn't pass Teddy's muster, it was  _never_  going to happen."

    Dean shrugged it off, even managing to grin a little bit, as he claimed, "At least he doesn't threaten me with sharp objects whenever I see him these days. As long as I'm not dating any of 'his girls', he seems to tolerate me well enough."

    Arielle snorted. "There you go then. Anyway, I'm assuming that you came here for a reason?"

    He laughed, telling her that he was due for patrol in Diagon in about 30 minutes – if she was free, she was more than welcome to tag along. She could have kissed him in that moment, so great was her relief. Any excuse to get out of the Ministry and be outside, even patrolling the peaceful streets of the magical shopping district, was welcomed. Snagging her official Enforcer's badge, they grabbed the official red Auror robes on their way out of the Department – nobody actually wore the things inside the Ministry unless they were performing official duties – and headed for the lifts to take them to the main foyer of the Ministry in preparation for Floo-ing to Diagon Alley.

    Once arrived at the Leaky Cauldron via the Floo, they dusted themselves off and greeted Hannah Finnegan, the owner and landlady – another year-mate, though sorted into Hufflepuff – married to Seamus, Dean's schoolmate and friend. Quickly, they made their way out back to the courtyard, and from there into Diagon Alley proper. They met up just outside of Ollivander's with the pair of Auror's that they were taking over from, Kendrick and Smythe were more than ready to go. "Haven't had so much as a purse-snatch," Anna Smythe grumbled.

    The patrols in the Alley, amongst other noted magical areas in Britain, had been stepped up after an attack on Hogsmeade had taken place a few months before. Happily, for Ari's peace of mind, it hadn't been a weekend for the students at Hogwarts to attend the little Wizarding village, so Teddy had not been at risk. For the most part, only minor damage and injuries had been the result of the assault by several masked and hooded individuals that had Apparated out of there once a squad of Aurors had Portkeyed into the town, in order to back up and defend the townspeople from further harassment.

    "Mitchell and Bryant are sweeping Knockturn," was Kendrick's contribution. Bevan Kendrick had graduated from Wielding Sorcery Academy in Wales, one of the smaller magical schools in Britain, in '93 before applying for the Auror's Academy. He had been a notable and loyal Auror for over a decade – barring his subversive activities in support of the Resistance during Riddle's takeover of the Ministry in '97 – prior to his recruitment to MAGIC in 2005 as an Agent with Arielle's encouragement and sponsorship. He was now the Senior Agent for the British Office of MAGIC, overseeing the other Agents and Enforcers when they were on active duty.

    Derek Mitchell and Paige Bryant were the other team of Aurors on patrol within the Alley's environs, who would meet up with them at random times and locations as each pairing swept through the place on alert for any untoward activity in the commercial centre. She had worked with both before, Bryant more than Mitchell, and the two were solid, hardworking officers – not a lot slipped by them.

    "How's Warwick coming along with the Hydra-Kin investigation, then?" Arielle questioned Kendrick, referring to their colleague Agent Aaron Warwick, assigned to the squad of Agents investigating the attacks – Hogsmeade was merely the most recent in a string of like crimes throughout several countries, Romania, Bulgaria, the United States, and even Australia had reported assaults on public districts where a high concentration of those country's magical populations tended to reside or frequent. All bore disturbing similarities – several individuals, always heavily veiled in cloaks and masks, would quickly Apparate or ride a Portkey in and start causing mayhem, casting Dark Spells at bystanders and buildings with the clear intent of causing injury and damage to whatever they were aiming at. Once the Aurors arrived in full force, however, they quickly exited the area, leaving the officers with the task of cleaning up their mess, seeing to the wounded and questioning the witnesses.

    "Not much, so far," Kendrick replied, sighing heavily. "Just confirming with his other team-mates on their ends more or less as to where the attacks were, when they happened, how many seemed to be involved for each area . . ." he went on to list the various things that made up the – often tedious – work for Officers to wade through in their investigations, as they tried to make sense of the cases they were appointed to. Something tickled in the back of Ari's mind as she listened to Kendrick's recital of the places where the attacks had happened, she was sure that there was something familiar to her in there, something that she'd heard or perhaps read that linked those places together in her mind.

* * *

 

_There was the warehouse district in Tirgoviste, Romania, where many workers in the magical factories had been badly injured – some killed – when they were caught in the blazing buildings, set alight with_ _Fiendfyre_ _, Cursed magical fire that was almost impossible to douse once started;_ _магия алея_ _or Magic Alley in Sofia, Bulgaria, their equivalent to Britain's Diagon Alley had been hit also, with the offenders appearing at opposite ends to prevent any quick exit by fleeing shoppers, casting Blasting Hexes at store windows and Dark Curses at the frightened people as they tried to escape._

_Mississippi Swings in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, one of the U.S.'s premier magical malls had almost been levelled when five terrorists had struck with simultaneous Gouging Hexes at the support pillars on the ground floor of the 10-storey building. A group of quick-thinking tourists had saved the structure, along with many lives, when they moved to brace the cracking, crumbling columns with various supportive Charms and Transfigured material to help bear the weight. Unfortunately, their heroism had quickly brought them to the hostile attention and fire from the thugs who attacked en masse. Angered by this cowardly harassment upon those who were so courageously trying to save them, the horrified onlookers were swift in exacting their own retribution on the gang. From the advantage of higher ground, they started casting a few nasty Hexes and Charms of their own, forcing the assault group to retreat even before the Aurors had arrived in the aftermath._

_Possibly scared off by the enthusiastic reprisal enacted on them by the enraged civilians in the mall attack, the terrorists' next target was Melbourne, Australia – the industrial area within Dandenong, to be precise – at night-time, when few were around._ _Fiendfyre_ _was used once more to burn out several shops and businesses in the region that belonged to members of the Australian magical populace, but it quickly spread to engulf other buildings in the area. While the assailants were gone by the time that law enforcement and fire-fighters arrived to stop the fires from spreading any further, for the first time, they had left a sinister calling-card behind – the ground on one street had been marked with an apparently fire-resistant substance that the Cursed Fire had left mostly intact, whilst scorching everything else around it, revealing a symbol and a message. This would be the first time that anyone in Magical Law Enforcement had heard the term 'Hydra-Kin'._

_A nine-headed black hydra was depicted with four of its heads decapitated, as one of those gruesome wounds seemed to have the beginnings of two new growths emerging from the gore. One clawed foot was set atop a globe beside the fearsome form, a globe of the Earth, as if claiming it – a rather bold declaration for a group that, up until now, had released no statements, had offered no clue as to their ultimate agenda. Beneath the image were the words:_

_**As Hydra-Kin We Arise From Death** _

_**As Hydra-Kin We Are Legion** _

_Hogsmeade had the same insignia left behind after that attack as well, emblazoned on the outside wall of The Three Broomsticks. Rosmerta had all but thrown a tantrum right there on the street, screaming invectives at the Aurors who were trying to calm her down and gesturing wildly at the offending image on the brick exterior of her pub. Like so many others who'd survived the Second Rebellion, she'd been left to watch on with horror at the crimes perpetrated by the Death Eaters as they'd terrorised innocents with a will and a passion, leaving destruction and chaos in their wake – and, in many cases, their own symbol of terror and pain: the notorious Dark Mark shot into the sky to blot out the stars with its sinister green glow, the Skull-and-Snake of Voldemort. Rosmerta had no intention of playing host to that kind of fear and violence ever again, and having a mark like that left on her pub was simply not to be borne. She swore up and down the street that she would_ blast down the whole bloody wall if she had to _, in order to be rid of it._

* * *

 

    "Potter?"

    Brought back by Kendrick's brusque tones, she shook herself mentally before quirking her brow to him. Heeding her subtle signal, he excused them from Smythe and Thomas who, judging from the flirtatious air around them both, barely took any notice as Arielle and Bevan stepped to the side for privacy.

    "What is it, Potter?" Bevan asked once he'd set up a Ward for privacy. Arielle set up a few of her own before replying.

    "For some reason, those places, the locations are setting off bells  _somewhere_  in my memory – I can't quite grasp it, though," she said, sighing in frustration as she rubbed her brow with her index finger. "Let me think on it for a bit, do some nosing about, I'll see if I can't work out why it's niggling at me," she offered in response to his narrow-eyed interest at her words. He nodded contemplatively, still eyeing her closely.

    "You do that, Potter. You do just that, and you let me know straight off if you work it out," he ordered briskly. She nodded to her superior. "Who knows? You might just have the information we need to track these bastards down, the break we've been looking for all along."

    "I'll do my best, sir." She scratched her nose idly, pondering. "It wasn't 'til you laid it out for me like that, all the locations in order, that I started to get a tingle about it. I  _know_  I've seen or heard something that connects all these dots, I'm just trying to put it together in my head as to  _where_ , y'know, what context," she struggled a bit to vocalise her thoughts, to point out for him her line of self-query. He just nodded again.

    "Don't panic on it overly, Potter. Stressing on it don't help us any. Just puzzle on it when you get the chance – but for now . . ." trailing off as he took down the Secrecy Spells around them, as they looked to where Smythe and Thomas were waiting patiently, ". . . I think you have a patrol to be getting on with," he finished, tilting his head to indicate for her to go to Dean and get going.

    She smiled courteously, inclining her head politely. "Sir."

    Taking polite farewells of each other, they set off on their respective ways, Smythe and Kendrick reporting back to headquarters, Dean and Arielle headed out to walk the streets and alleyways, watchful and wary. Partners on patrol tended to separate to cover ground more efficiently, but always remained within eyesight of each other in order to be able to watch the other's back in case of trouble.

    A few hours into their shift, and all was quiet. They'd crossed paths a couple of times with Bryant and Mitchell, updating each other on what was going on – absolutely nothing. Ari was standing just outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-cream Parlour, smirking a little as she eyed Dean Thomas's conspicuously turned back as he stood over by the Magical Menagerie, staring longingly up the street to WWW, the twin's shop at the end of the Alley. He was clearly still pouting about her keeping him from 'patrolling' up that way almost exclusively the whole time. Boys, she snorted mentally, always wanting to play with the shiny new toys. Speaking of, she'd nearly had to drag him out of Quality Quidditch Supplies by his ear when he'd spied the newest Broom Sweeper's outfit released by Nimbus. Thomas was rather keen on the sport – a combination of broom-racing and an obstacle course, flying against other riders as you navigated the course.

    Drawn from her thoughts by a sudden series of loud cracks, her head snapped swiftly to the area just in front of Gringott's front steps, where the sounds seemed to originate from. People did not Apparate into Diagon Alley, it was considered rude. With so many people walking through most of the day, and with so many shops tightly packed together with some of their goods displayed out the front, the likelihood of managing to Apparition into the area and possibly end up stumbling into someone or something was quite high. Most tended to Apparate discreetly into one of the alleyways off Charing Cross Road before heading into the Leaky Cauldron or, if they had a working Floo, simply Floo-ed directly to the pub.

    Upon seeing the band of cloaked individuals clustered in front of the white-marbled building, she came fully alert. Her eyes went past them momentarily to meet Thomas' suddenly grim gaze – he'd seen them, too. He inclined his head to her, before twisting away to race into Gambol and Japes – the store had a Floo that he could use to contact the Ministry. Ducking around the wall separating Florean's from Pyramids, a store promoting its wares as 'genuine Egyptian artefacts and marvels', she pressed her wand to the left side of her robe over her heart, where her MAGIC Enforcer's badge was – the charms on it could send a variety of signals to fellow Aurors and Officers when needed. She tapped the badge with her wand once to signal any badges in close proximity to her current location – Thomas, Bryant and Mitchell were within range, while Dean already knew what was going on, she was letting the others know that they had a problem and they had to move to her location . . . now. Her badge  _ting_ -ed softly – once from Mitchell, then once more from Bryant, an acknowledgement – they were on their way.

    She narrowed her eyes as she spotted movement inside Gambol's – Dean unobtrusively slipped through the door, a grim look in his eyes as he scanned down the street, finding her as she crouched at the wall. He shook his head – the Floo wasn't working, she realised in dismay. They each could have used their badges to alert the DMLE to the situation in the Alley, but the charms capabilities were limited in the information that could be transmitted. It would have been so much easier to make a Floo-call and be able to speak directly to a fellow Auror. Her badge  _ting_ -ed again softly – Thomas. She looked to him, he was sidling around the wall towards Gringott's to get in behind the group, who were going unnoticed for the moment by the milling crowd of shoppers around them, they seemed to be formulating a plan of attack – looking around furtively, 'looking for something – or someone?' she wondered to herself. Thomas signalled through his badge again – three taps: short, long, and then short again – NO CONTACT. Exhaling in a sudden rush, she closed her eyes in comprehension – they were on their own. It wasn't just the Floo – their ability to communicate long-range with Aurors in the MLE offices had been compromised as well . . . and  _that_  could not be a coincidence. Once Thomas had tried and failed to connect with the Floo, he had tried his badge – and had gotten no response.

    More out of hope than any real expectations of success, she gave it a go herself (maybe Thomas's badge had malfunctioned), it was unlikely seeing as he could still communicate with her and the others in the Alley, but it was worth a shot.

    Nothing. Swiftly, she called up her Patronus, wincing at the bright light the form threw off – she did not want to be seen by the hooded crew just yet – she whispered her message to it before sending it off to the Ministry and the DMLE. She tapped her badge thrice, all short – MESSAGE. Waiting a beat, she tapped five times in rapid succession to signal that it would take some time for a response – after the war, with the vast success reported by the resistance on the effectiveness of using Patronuses for communication, every DMLE around the world had ensured that all of their officers could perform the charm – no exceptions permitted. If you couldn't produce an effective  _corporeal_  Patronus, you couldn't serve as an active member of law enforcement – your assignments were based on clerical and administrative duties, permanently.

    Her head turned towards Knockturn as she watched a Disillusioned Mitchell slip into the shadows on the far corner, staying low as he watched the clustered group closely. He would be assessing them now, every bit as much as Thomas and Arielle had before – roughly twenty or more individuals, covered up by their cloaks in such a way that you couldn't even tell if they were male or female, let alone what they looked like. Not a good sign.

    He didn't look to find her or Thomas – he didn't need to. Their badges told them exactly where the others were, another safety measure established from the Blood War. Bryant, Disillusioned as well, slipped around the corner nearest Ari discreetly, making her way down towards her position. They had their play now – Thomas and Arielle had been separated in position by the bands' Apparition point at Gringott's, so Mitchell would back him up – and Bryant and Arielle would team up. "Alright there, Potter?" Bryant's cockney twang came softly as she placed herself in position in front of Pyramids' doors, set in a slight alcove where Bryant could shed her Disillusionment and watch their targets without giving herself away. It wasn't the cloaks that made them so suspicious, this was Wizarding London, after all – cloaks and robes were the norm rather than the exception. The cloaked figures all had their hoods drawn up over their heads to cover their faces and as much as you might try, you couldn't make out any of their features other than the gleam of their eyes – a very,  _very_ good sign of a first-rate Masking Glamour being applied to the hoods.

    This whole process – from the suspects Apparating into the alley more or less right in front of Thomas and Arielle, to all four officers being in communication with each other about their options, right before they had positioned themselves for an effective takedown – had taken mere minutes. They were ready to go – it was perfect . . . too perfect. Even as they were preparing to move out there, and make their presence known as official law enforcement to the menacing bunch, the people around them were starting to take notice, finally. One woman suddenly screamed, pointing her finger toward them. "It's THEM! I saw them, at Hogsmeade! They're the ones who burnt down my sister's house!"

    "Shit." Ari's heartfelt expletive gusted out as she exhaled in resignation – there went the opportunity to do this discreetly with the minimum of fanfare. But then, given her suspicions on just who they were looking at, she figured the odds had been pretty slim on that scenario anyway. Tapping her badge twice sharply – GO – she nodded to Bryant, and they stepped out together even as some in the crowd began to shrink back in fear and alarm.

    One of the Masked members stepped forward, raising their wand threateningly, even as Thomas's voice, magnified by a _Sonorus_  boomed out from behind one of the marble columns fronting Gringott's entrance. "HALT! BRITISH AURORS AND ENFORCEMENT! LAY DOWN YOUR WANDS AND IDENTIFY YOURSELVES IMMEDIATELY!"

    And all hell broke loose – everyone amongst the group had their wands out, casting all manner of Spells in every direction, a great many were concentrated on where they'd heard Thomas's voice behind the pillar. It was a spectacularly bad move, as the towering column cracked under the sheer volume of Spells impacting upon it – the splintered marble fell down towards the street – taking part of the overhanging roof with it, right on top of the hostile force. Most managed to scramble out of the way – some didn't.  _CRASH!_

    Arielle winced in vague empathy – not the nicest way to go, really – before shutting off her emotions and focussing on the task ahead of her. They had to keep these bastards contained as much as possible, if it was the same faction as before, if it  _was_ Hydra-Kin, then they had already demonstrated their willingness to cause harm and even kill others in their lust for destruction.

* * *

 

    She looked around her in vague disbelief – had it really only been five minutes since the fight started? The sheer chaos around her was incredible – while most of the civilians had been able to take refuge in various stores throughout the alley, safely under the highest-security Wards the shops had to prevent theft and damage, others had not been so fortunate. Some lay limply in the rubble littering the street while others cowered behind any cover they could find, spot-fires still sputtering away in random places – remnants of stray Blasting Curses hitting explosive elements or chemicals, and Flame Curses fired at people and buildings in the Hydras' rampage. Arielle was currently pinned down at the corner of Knockturn Alley, trading rapid Spell-fire with a wily trio of the faction – they knew their stuff, she admitted to herself grudgingly – one Shielded, another was on active defence against any Spells Ari cast that could potentially break through the Shield, while the last was casting offensively for the group. Speaking of . . . Ari ducked rapidly as an assortment of Conjured daggers buried themselves into the wall above her head. Thinking quickly, she Shielded herself with her right wand, as she gestured with the one in her left hand. A Conjuration for a Conjuration, she thought, smirking coldly. Never,  _never_  go up against a Potter with the idea of using Transfiguration as your key to victory – her father's side of the family had a _looonnng_  history of specialising in that particular branch of magic. She whipped her wand back over her shoulder, pointing directly towards her opponents, unflinching as several rather violent Hexes impacted against her Shield. It trembled, but held firm.

    Their eyes widened a bit as they watched in disbelief – apparently at least one of those Curses was designed to shatter Shield Charms – before they suddenly wailed in terror with one voice . . . the daggers they had wielded had now been turned back at them, as  _shuriken_. Spinning through the air at high velocity, they were all but invisible, and almost impossible to stop or avoid. The defender quickly hurled a vortex of air, hoping to catch the lethal stars in the tornado, as the attacker desperately began firing a heavy barrage of Curses and Hexes at Ari's shield, trying to blast through with pure force. Ari smiled; a cold, vicious curl of her lips that had absolutely nothing to do with humour – she had them now. Their panicked attempts at saving themselves had given her all the ammunition she needed. Letting the Spells splash harmlessly against her Shield, she focussed her will and her magic on that vortex, ripping it from the magical control of the caster – it was HERS now. She Conjured a second wave of  _shuriken_ , Banishing them into the expanding spiral, then a third wave that she held in reserve behind her as she  _pushed_   with her Magic. Any stray  _shuriken_  that hadn't been pulled into the twister had mostly gone on to impact the trio's Shield, slicing into the barrier, but not quite breaking through. Perfect.

    The twister smashed against the Conjured barrier, whirring and writhing against the resistance to its directed path. The air alone, no matter how wild, might have had little effect on the buffering magic . . . except that not only had the buried stars set up cracks and faults within the Shield that the intense winds were working their way through – and widening with every passing moment – but the  _shuriken_  spiralling inside the twister were slashing into the barrier as well, shredding it even further.

    Seeing their protection compromised, and their Darkest Curses rendered ineffective against Ari's impressive Shielding, the trio turned to flee . . . too late. The Shield broke and the stars flew with deadly precision. Seeing them there, effectively dead or dying, Ari took the opportunity to glance around, taking in the scene. Dean Thomas held position on the far side of Gringott's, facing off with a trio of his own – this was new, Ari realised suddenly, as her eyes swivelled to the other side of Gringott's where Derek Mitchell was holding Thomas's previous location behind a pillar. The assailants were working in threes just like those that Ari had just faced and defeated – one to Shield, one to defend, and another attacking.

    The terrorists had never worked together like this before . . . was it because they were facing Aurors? Ari wondered. Attacking terrified civilians who were mostly attempting to flee for their lives didn't tend to require such teamwork, and previous to this encounter, the Hydras had always chosen flight over fighting with armed and trained law enforcement – what had changed?

    She filed that away as a matter for later consideration, all of her surmising had only lasted a few seconds – right now, there was a Battle Royale going on out there, with two fellow officers under fire, and another downed. Ari looked at the ground behind her, at the crumpled, seemingly lifeless form sprawled on it – Paige Bryant. She was alive – barely – and the one reason why Ari had been pinned down against the wall, she was frantically trying to keep Bryant from being hit again by hostile fire. Ari had always been more effective as a fighter by being  _in motion at all times_. She was fast and unpredictable with her movements, leaving her opponents guessing as to where she would be next, casting with flawless precision as she went, almost literally running circles around any foes.

* * *

 

_She hadn't seen the Curse that hit Bryant, had only whirled around at hearing the choked, pained gasp behind her to see her ally falling, slumping to the ground with blood pouring from her eyes, and nose. When Ari ran to her, checking her over rapidly, she noted the blood that pooled in her ears as well – upon shedding Bryant's robes and lifting her shirt, she saw the tell-tale bruising on her torso – a Concussion Hex, one with enough power to cause severe internal bleeding, was Ari's diagnosis. She placed Bryant under a_ _Stasis_ _Charm, hoping that their backup would arrive in time to get her the proper medical care she needed. To help that aim along, she fired off two more Messenger Patronuses quickly, one to the, hopefully, soon-to-arrive Auror squad to inform them that an officer was down, and one to St. Mungo's to inform them of a wounded Auror, and the likely injuries that they would be presented with on said Auror's arrival at the hospital,_ soon _._

_She turned back to the battle reluctantly, knowing that there was no choice – Thomas and Mitchell couldn't get to them to provide cover, and evacuating Bryant to St. Mungo's, leaving them behind, just wasn't a viable option. They had to fight it out, trusting in their colleagues to get there to support them in time._

* * *

 

    Running a swift tally in her head – four killed by the falling pillar at the start, another four during the course of the battle, by her count, it had been one for all of them, Ari noted – plus the three she had just overwhelmed accounted for eleven out of the hostile force. There were now four trios concentrating their efforts on Mitchell and Thomas alternately – apparently, they trusted in their fifth cohort to take down the lone Officer stranded on the other side of the Alley without a partner – their mistake, Ari grinned mirthlessly. Looking around, she rather thought that if there were any stray members of the Hydras on their own that she hadn't accounted for, they were certainly well hidden and keeping their heads down. She stepped out from her dark corner, still well-placed to defend Bryant's prone form physically if need be, the final cluster of  _shuriken_  still hovering behind her head. Ready to be launched at her command.

    One member of the trio on the far left must have caught her movement at the edge of his vision, as he spun around to stare at her. He looked from her to the group lying lifeless and bloody on the ground, with silver blades protruding from their bodies in a menacing display of this Officer's martial prowess. Staring at her once more, his gaze sharpened –  _Potter_! Nobody had gotten a clear look at her before this; she had remained in the shadows, and the fighting was too intense. All their focus had been on attacking any who got in the way, and defending themselves from the fierce onslaught by the Aurors that were trying to protect the civilians left stranded in the open.

    "It's Potter!" his voice rang out, echoing in the street. "Potter, you fools! Get her, kill the bitch!" so saying, he and his group plus one other turned and opened fire on her almost simultaneously, leaving the other two gangs to match up against Thomas and Mitchell, to keep them under pressure and unable to go to Arielle's aid. Her eyes narrowed – was she just a target of opportunity, then? A way to big-note themselves by taking on and killing the Girl-Who-Lived, or had she been marked for some reason? Were they here because they had been tipped off that she was patrolling the area? Why?

    For now, at least, the answers didn't matter – she was too busy trying to survive. Three opponents working as a single unit were one thing – double that number, coming at her from opposite angles – that was a whole other game. Ari liked games.

    Holding out her hand, palm up, she Conjured a ball of flame above it – small at first, then quickly growing – as her right hand gestured to pull up another Shield. Under the pressure of such a barrage of Spells cast against it repeatedly, she knew it wouldn't hold for long . . . it didn't have to. She made a gesture with her left hand, flicking her palm upwards as if tossing something in the air, and the ball of flame indeed rose – into the centre of the massed  _shuriken_  that now began to spin in place, steadily picking up speed, until they looked like little silver discs of flame themselves, dancing in mid-air. Suddenly, they  _were_  aflame, the fireball shooting out tongues of gold-and-crimson heat to ignite the whirling stars. She launched the fiery blades, aimed at the space  _between_  the two groups facing her, watching as they all turned to stare warily at the burning stars that suddenly  _changed course_. Some peeled off toward the group on the left, moving in graceful, deadly arcs, almost faster than the eye could follow. The other half mirrored them on the right, closing in on that trio with purely lethal intent.

    Arielle never got a chance to see the results of her surprise ambush as a voice to her right, in the shadows of the opposite corner of Knockturn, called her name. "Arielle?" She spun, right wand at the ready with a Curse on the tip of her tongue as her left arm extended outward from her side, reinforcing her Shield. She stared, almost dropping her wand in astonishment. Almost.

    He looked at her with a slight quirk to his mouth, as if he wanted to grin at her bewilderment, but wasn't prepared to provoke her ire after seeing her react so swiftly. She shook her head,  _hard_. "It's not possible," she stared in utter incredulity. "You're not real. I dreamed you . . . I made you up in my mind . . ." she was almost stuttering now in her shock, trying to make sense of what she saw. " _Finn_?" His pale green eyes, gleaming so brightly even in the dim gloom of the alley, glittered in amusement. He pushed himself off the wall he'd been slouched against casually, slowly prowling towards her. On seeing her eyes narrow at him warningly, he lifted his hands in appeasement, showing that he was unarmed. For someone like him – an Original Vampire – that didn't really mean much. His eyes were still laughing, though.

    "Of course it is me. Finally, I am Called to you once more – after all this time – and you do not even believe me to be anything more than idle fantasy?" he put a hand to his heart in feigned sorrow, grinning fully by now. Arielle realised that she could still see his shirt through his hand – in fact, she could see the wall of the Alley through his body – his whole form was translucent.

    A sudden, almost explosive hit on her Shield snapped her attention back to the fight – she saw that of the left-side trio, two members were down with the one furthest away from the wheeling stars apparently managing to either duck, or Shield himself in some way, in time to escape fatal injuries. There were two survivors from the right, that hadn't come through entirely unscathed, she observed in satisfaction – one was going to lose his eye, if she wasn't mistaken, the exposed prongs of the star embedded in his left orb winked gruesomely in the dying light of the evening, while the other had slashes across his torso all the way from nipple to upper thigh. . . that might have nicked the artery, she mused inwardly, eyeing the streaming blood . . . or at least a larger vein, was her conclusion. It was he who had flung the Curse that had nearly shattered her Shield.

    She focussed on him – this was the weak link, she determined ruthlessly. Make him dance around to avoid her volley of Hexes and Curses, and that injury would take him out. If he didn't actually die from massive blood-loss and shock, he would at least pass out, she thought to herself, thus preventing these three from forming another trio to wear her down. Mind set, her left hand continued to pour power into her Shield, mending any cracks, and strengthening it for the assault to come.  _She moved._

    Jumping atop the 4-foot-tall post that marked the entry to Knockturn Alley, she took the higher ground, waving her right wand at a certain patch of the ground beyond her attackers. The duo turned, as the opponent to her left continued to fire at her, advancing slowly while trying to break the Shield that all but sizzled with power every time it was struck, holding steady. The other two recoiled at the sight of the stars laying on the ground around the slashed bodies of the first gang that Ari had taken out – she had long since allowed the twister to peter out, and the  _shuriken_  that were not embedded in their corpses were simply scattered around and on them, apparently harmless. But it wasn't the  _shuriken_  she was after right now – pausing in her casting to rapidly shift her attention to the steadily advancing menace on her left, she forced him back with an  _Expulso_  fired at his feet . . . his Shield protected him from impact but she had anticipated that, aiming at the ground in front of him flung up dust, dirt and shards of rock and stone into his body and face, making him recoil as the dust flew right through his Shield, getting in his eyes and mouth and nose. The small, sharp splinters of shattered rock pierced his Shield, cutting him in several places, albeit shallowly, but it was enough to have him retreat a little, cursing furiously at the sudden pain and discomfort.

    She went back to casting at the bodies on the ground, even as _he_  moved up beside her, watching on in fascination. "Bit nasty, all of this," was his laconic opening, as he was clearly angling to engage her in conversation once more. Ari ground her teeth silently. What a fine time for her to be having a full-blown, daytime hallucination of someone straight out of her nightmares – in the midst of a full-fledged mêlée in Diagon Alley! – and she couldn't resist the temptation to remark as much to her imaginary companion, who simply flung his dark head back and laughed heartily, his shoulders shaking in his hilarity. "I am  _not_   'the wild hallucination of a fevered brain' as you so kindly put it, Arielle. I am as real as any of these . . ." gesturing expressively at the attackers before her, ". . . bumbling buffoons here."

    "If you were real, they would see you and attack you just for standing next to me," was Ari's wily retort. Real! She could see  _through_  him just like any other ghost in her world, except that he was not silver-and-grey,  _and no-one else could see him._  He just laughed again, shaking his head at her in mocking reproof. She ignored him, because now – finally – her Spell-crafting had taken effect on the three chosen targets. The bodies rose from the ground, transformed and alive again, in a manner of speaking. Three fearsome animals – a lion, black-maned and tawny-eyed; a miniature Horntail, approximately a quarter of the average size . . . she wasn't keen on the idea of expending the energy required to create a full-sized replica, thank you very much . . . and a beautiful, glowing-white Salamander, she had used some of the still-flaming stars to spark the life into her Transfiguration from the human body, which explained the size of the fiery beast – at least six-feet long.

    "Of course they cannot see me, Arielle." The figment of her imagination chose this moment to pipe up again. She rolled her eyes – honestly, what did a witch have to do to get some peace and quiet, so that she could finish putting down a bunch of murderous fiends? She jumped down from her perch suddenly as her attacker finally smartened up enough to stop wasting his time attempting to destroy her Shield Charm – still going strong – and just cast directly at the column she was standing on, blasting it to bits. "Because I am not here for them, I am here for  _you_ ," he continued on, blithely ignoring her obvious attempts to ignore him as she willed her Transfigured creatures into action, turning them loose on the remainder of the Hydras – Dean and Derek had acquitted themselves well, she saw – only two remained out of the original force of six that had been concentrating their efforts on the duo to keep them from sneaking around to support Ari. She turned her attention to the rubble left from the post she had used to view everything from a higher level – she Transfigured it into a solid wall that she placed around Paige, to afford her some protection against any stray Spells or shrapnel being flung around.

    "Oh really?  _You_  are here for  _me_? Well, that's very romantic, Finn-" she was cut off by a sudden outcry from Dean. Looking out from the alley, she saw that Derek was down, apparently taken out by rubble Banished at him at high velocity, judging from the rather colourful welts and bruising she could see on his head, and the assortment of stones surrounding his prone body. Another scream from her right signalled the success of her Lion, as he snarled triumphantly, chewing his downed victim's arm to splinters before going for the throat.

    She pursed her lips, a little put off by the gory sight, before shrugging it off. Even as she continued casting Hexes and Curses towards her opponents in the street, a part of her attention was reserved for the vision standing beside her, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at her. "-But I don't think it would work very well, what with you being invisible to everyone else and, well . . ." thrusting her arm out to the side and  _through_  his chest in demonstration of her point, ". . . We can't exactly  _embrace the moment_ , so to speak," continuing on with her previous statement as if she'd never paused in the first place.

    It was his turn to roll his eyes now, as she grinned snarkily – if she couldn't banish her hallucination by sheer force of will, maybe she could annoy him away with a combination of indulgent disdain and pointed digs . . . her special, patented blend for scaring away the unwanted males in her life. Finn however, was obviously made of sterner stuff. "Forget it Witchling, I am not going anywhere. So, tell me all about these 'dreams' of yours. Anything interesting?"

    "And . . . what would you consider 'interesting'?"

    "Clearly, you recognise me. So I must feature in them – alongside my family – I presume?" he cocked a dark brow at her in enquiry. She concentrated on returning fire on both sides of the alley, not bothering to answer. He grinned thinly, his eyes narrowing on her as he all but purred in triumph, "And I do believe that you have had these 'dreams' for quite a while, with me and my family – and yourself, of course, as you once were – and then . . ." he trailed off, those wolfish eyes intent on her profile, marked by a sudden pallor now. He pulled his upper lip back from his teeth in a triumphant smile, almost a snarl, as she flicked a sideways glance to him, her bright green eyes focussing on his slightly extended canines – too long to be merely human, too sharp for comfort.

    "Your 'dream' changed." A flat statement, no room left in the words or his tone for denial or rebuttal. She looked back desperately to the street in front of her, trying to focus on the scene before her, to block him out – she  _couldn't_  deal with this right now! She  _never_  wanted to have to deal with this, it was too much, she was Arielle Potter, Enforcer, not some ancient witch who'd known vampires straight out of the legends –  _before_  they were legendary, mind you.

    She turned her head in frantic relief as she heard the tell-tale  _cracks_  of Apparition behind her, further down Knockturn Alley, as her badge jangled almost musically with the proximity beacon telling her that it was the Auror squad – finally – arriving to back them up. She called them up to her, shouting out the status report – two officers down, two standing with four . . . no, three suspects now, her Horntail had set one aflame before being blasted to bits – they were in need of a Medi-Mage and Auror support,  _now_. Once she turned her attention back into Diagon, she found that the three remaining thugs had heard the Aurors arriving as well – they were desperate now.

    She could see their eyes, blown wide enough that she could view the whites clearly around the iris – out of a band of more than twenty, they were the last three, the others were dead or as good as – and they could hear the Aurors pounding up Knockturn towards them, fresh to the fight and ready to take them down. Finn stepped in front of her suddenly, blocking her view as she frowned up at him in confusion. He swivelled his head, surveying the chaos around him, before he looked back down at her smiling, albeit sadly. "You are very good at what you do, Arielle – exceptional, in fact – I am so,  _so_  sorry," he murmured, his eyes holding hers with a strange intensity, as if he were steeling himself to something.

    "Sorry for what?" she tried to laugh it off, not quite succeeding. But what could he do, after all? He was either a ghost or an extremely vivid hallucination; he couldn't affect the living in any case. He looked at her.

    "You have had the dream now, over and over. You know it, and so do I. You are denying the truth to everybody, especially yourself, when you refuse to accept who you truly are . . . my hand has been forced," he stared into her eyes with an almost pleading expression. "I did not want this for you, I never wanted for you to have to suffer like this, but I do not have a choice any longer."

    "I'm not suffering, Finn." She peered up at him, trying to understand what was going on – perhaps this whole day had been one continuously long nightmare, it certainly felt eerie enough to her – the fine hairs on her arm and the back of her neck were pulling upright, standing erect as her inner alarm bells really started jangling now. What was this?

    He closed his eyes in apparent frustration, shaking his head before opening them once more to stare down into her upturned face, his own expression closed off, resolved. His pale eyes were flinty, hardened as he seemed to look into her very soul. "You will."

    Suddenly, she heard shouting in the street as the thugs finally cracked completely under the pressure. "We're dead meat!" one screamed hysterically. "They'll kill us for this."

    "Not if we finish it," another bellowed, his voice cracking halfway through the menacing words. "GET HER!" her eyes widened in apprehension; she had not forgotten her earlier suspicions concerning her presence in Diagon Alley being at least one highly motivating factor in the Hydra-Kin's attack on the area  _today_. If she stared hard enough through Finn's vaguely transparent form, she could make out the three raising their wands in her direction. She went to extend her wand in turn to create a Shield, but her arm was caught . . .  _by Finn's ghostly hand._  Her breath gushed out of her at the eerie sensation – it wasn't like being gripped by flesh-and-blood, nor was it the feeling of being doused in icy water that coming into contact with a magical ghost had on her – it felt almost like static electricity rolling over her skin, prickly and warm.

    She went to tug her arm free, and couldn't. He held onto her in a strangely tender, yet unbreakable, grip of his hand around her delicate wrist as she stared up at him, bewildered and silent. It was as if time had slowed around them – she could hear the Aurors coming up behind her, shouting warnings that seemed distorted and far-away. She could see the terrorists beyond Finn, still moving their wands into firing position as if in slow-motion, but she viewed them as though she was dreaming, a fine haze over her vision making them appear vague and out-of-focus – the only reality was her and Finn, his long hair falling over his eyes as they gazed at each other, his hand holding her to the Earth as her mind spiralled in confusion. His hawkish gaze softened slightly as he shifted his grip, both hands coming up to hold her shoulders as he repeated, "You will. The dream has altered – it changed last night. I know not what you saw in your visions, but what I do know, Arielle, is that it is time."

    "Time?" she whispered fretfully, wordlessly pleading for understanding, her plea going unanswered as his grip on her shoulders suddenly tightened, almost to the point of pain. She squirmed a little in silent protest.

    He nodded. "Yes. It is time. Forgive me, Arielle." She wondered if she was imagining the sudden glossy sheen in his eyes, as though he wished to cry – as he held her tightly and then released her, flinging her to the side . . . and time sped up once again.

    She drew in her breath to scream in shock as she fell, twisting her body in a futile attempt to save herself. To her horror, she saw the wands of the trio following her tumbling form, the tips glowing with violent intent from the Curses they were prepared to cast at her. DID cast at her, she watched the light of their Spells erupt and rocket towards her, she could do nothing to avoid them. Too late, she heard the bellows from her fellow officers as they spat out Hexes to defend her, to try and halt their attack on her. The strikes on her body didn't hurt, she thought, as she was hurled up and back into Knockturn from the sheer force of the impacts. Straight back into the path of several of the Spells cast by the Aurors – she felt the blows as she tumbled through the air with no more control than a rag doll, the small of her back, two on her right hip, her legs and arms hit in several places, before one struck the back of her head and she saw only the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, some definitions for the curious below
> 
> Vingt-et-un (French): (literal) twenty-one. Referring to the card game 21, also known as Blackjack.
> 
> Shuriken (Japanese): (literal) sword in the hand. Throwing stars, ninja stars.
> 
> Please review :)


	6. Chapter 5: Memories and Maladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams of a life never lived . . . or was it? Arielle awakens, only to find that everything has changed . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See first chapter
> 
> Author's Note: Had to cut this one in half again - I'm killing myself with all these monster chapters - I have to restrain myself ;) but at least I have the chapter ready to go now. So, everyone, please enjoy and let me know what you think.
> 
> Warning? Pretty standard for most of my story so far - a little bit of cursing here and there, character death (non-explicit).

_. . . She was up high in the trees, holding onto the twins tightly, waiting for Eirikr and Ione to send them away: she could feel them, all the large, strong males with the woman –_ the Witch _– and her Darkness, and she shuddered in disquiet . . . why wouldn't they just leave? Hearing them converse in the strange, harsh tongue that was spoken here, that she'd been struggling to learn from Ione, she listened intently to try to make sense of it – why had they come, what did they want from her family? The witch was speaking now, her tones smooth and soft, attempting to placate and persuade as the older man amongst them seemed to bark out a rough command . . ._ him _she did not like. She could all but See it in him – the coldness, the presumption – who was he to demand anything of anyone? She and hers had done no harm, had caused no trouble. Then she heard Eirikr call to her gently in their native tongue, saying that it was all right, that they were safe. She snorted, it was easy for him to be calm, a man did not have to fear other men the way that women had to be wary, guarded. She replied in the negative, calling out to him that he should make them go, she didn't want them here . . ._

_. . . Stumbling through the woods, she almost tripped and fell over the protruding roots of the great trees around her, but she steadied herself and continued to half-run, half-stagger back to her cabin, to her refuge. What was she running away from? The haze in her mind made it so hard to think clearly, to remember, but she could nearly taste the danger in the air – something was very wrong. She almost turned back, she knew something horrible was going to happen back there, a terrible evil was lurking in the night – but someone had told her to run . . . who? Why? It was there, in the depths of her memory, she could almost see the face, hear the voice – someone she trusted with few reservations. A woman, such fear in her tone, a slurring in the words – the wine! They had shared a goblet together for the blessing:_ something was placed in the cup _. Forcing her rubbery legs to move faster, she could all but hear them behind her now – she didn't know why she was pursued – and she wasn't waiting for them to find her in order to enquire as to their intentions, she fled into the night . . ._

_. . . They were coming into the small clearing now where she was waiting in front of the cabin, the girls running to her, their frantic, high-pitched voices babbling at her, talking over each other in a desperate jumble of words that she couldn't really make out, but she understood enough to look to their companion in disbelief – the Witch-Hunters? Here? He looked back at her, his light green eyes appeared almost yellow in the muted light filtering through the thick trees. He was pale, his face set bleakly as he stared first at the frightened girls, then back at her with his eyes softening slightly. She was suddenly terrified at that look – why? Why such compassion, what was so wrong that his usual stoicism had all but deserted him today, and why was_ he _escorting the twins through the woods? Where were . . . her skin tightened and prickled suddenly, as chilled as if a shadow had just passed over the sun – she looked over the tops of the tall trees, back to the north, to the village – she could see a column of thick, mottled grey rising into the sky steadily. Smoke! Her voice was steady and quiet as she spoke to the twins, soothing them, ordering them tenderly to go inside and wait for her. She watched them enter, closing the door behind themselves, before turning to see that he had approached a little closer, but not too close, as if unsure of his reception. The tears prickled at her eyes, but she fought them back fiercely – SHE WOULD NOT WEEP – not in front of him. Not if it was true, not if everything she suddenly suspected was true. If he was here, how had he known? There was more here, his eyes said everything that he could never speak out loud, and the wind whispered of betrayal . . ._

_. . . The full moon rode high in the darkened heavens, revealed through gaps in the shrouding treetops as she ran, desperately trying to reach them in time. Her heart told her it was futile – she refused to accept it._ Why _was she given all this power if she couldn't even use it to save the ones she loved? What was the point? And now, on this night, the werewolves howled and men huddled in caves as tragedy loomed once more._

She had awoken suddenly, her heart pounding as she tried to figure out why her stomach was churning, her skin so clammy with cold sweat. She had Listened to the night . . . seeking with her Magic, what was it? Then her mind's eye had opened, and she Saw them, high in the branches of the ancient cypress, clinging on for dear life. What circled the tree beneath them, waiting, had her leaping out of bed and hastily throwing on a pair of breeches before she raced out of the cottage, running as fast as she could, even as her soul ached – she was too far away, there wasn't enough time.

_Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks as if she'd hit a wall, listening in dawning horror as a triumphant howl arose into the air. More joined in, declaring the terrible truth she was frantically trying to deny to herself, even as her heart broke and the grief tore through her. No, NO! Hands over her mouth as she tried to contain the terrible wails of sorrow; she stood there like a frozen statue, mourning in silence. She could feel the burning in her chest, a steady hum of hatred and rage as she listened to the wolves calling their victory – their kill – into the darkness . . . enough! Her head went back, exposing the tender, vulnerable line of her throat as she sucked in air through her nose, expanding her lungs to their utmost – she opened her mouth and ROARED . . ._

_. . . Kneeling in front of Finn, she held out her hand silently. He just looked at it for a moment, before stealing a glance over her head at his parents – still restrained and silenced – his throat working a little with his uncertainty. He turned his eyes back to her, before sighing heavily and holding his hand out to hers. She smiled gently in approval, her eyes reassuring him. She took the knife, slicing her thumb first, then his, pressing the wounded digits together as she chanted softly. Finishing, she rose up on her knees to press her mouth to his forehead tenderly. One down, four to go – and judging by the expression on at least two of the others, this might have been the easiest one of the lot – she rolled her eyes internally – why did she put herself through this frustration? As much as she loved them all dearly, she had certainly never blinded herself to reality – as individuals, these siblings were_ apain in her bum _, en masse – she shuddered a little, they drove her CRAZY . . ._

_. . . They rode through the wilderness, as she looked back over her shoulder for any signs of pursuit. Nothing . . . yet. She glanced off to her right, hearing the soft, airy_ whoosh _as Elie matched their pace through the trees. Her horse shied slightly beneath her, uneasy with the presence it could sense running alongside – a predator without equal, swift and deadly. Pulling gently, but firmly, on the halter, she clucked to the mare softly, soothing her – they couldn't stop now, or falter, they wouldn't be far behind. She turned back to face forward, seeing the girl on the sturdy pony beside her from the corner of her eye, matching her pace as they rode on. Still softly rounded with youth, her small face was set in grim lines, eyes narrowed against the wind stirred in their rapid flight; she did not look back once. The others had stayed behind to fight, to try to buy them time to flee from the danger and find refuge. They had known what their ultimate fate would be, knew that what came for them was not a force that could be defeated and turned away, but they stayed nonetheless. If one could be saved, they had claimed, then it was worth it – this one, their daughter and sister, would go on to live, safe and free, to continue their line and their family . . ._

_. . . The heat began in her chest, where the cruel, icy blade still pierced her breast, her heart, it was intense – endless – a fiery prickling under her skin, flames racing through her veins as her very blood seemed to turn into lava, her bones and flesh to ash as she burned, BURNED . . ._

* * *

Her torso arched upright off the mattress as her head flung back into the pillow, mouth open as she desperately sucked in air to scream, her frantic cries echoing around the room as she writhed, clawing at the bedding with curled hands as she tried to hold on to something – anything – as she felt like her skin was two sizes too small, constricting around her. She wondered, almost distractedly, if her heart had turned into a flaming coal, pumping liquid fire through her veins instead of blood as her lungs worked like bellows, intensifying the heat. Her head tossed wildly from side to side as she felt as if she was becoming a pillar of living flame, burning alive, as the feverish energy in her veins built up to an almost unbearable level, before suddenly seeming to explode from her. It wasn't fire, she thought dazedly, in realisation as she looked about her – it was magic, HER magic was nearly  _throbbing_  through her as it purged outwards in a violent display of wild power. When would it end, she wondered almost hysterically, her eyes wide and frightened as the power simply  _poured_  from her in apparently never-ending waves as her body shuddered from the sheer force.

Then, as if a switch had flipped, it stopped. No warning, no slowing or hesitation – one moment she was at the centre of a storm of chaotic energy, the next the flow simply snapped off and she slumped back to the bed, utterly drained and limp. She was gasping, trying to breathe through the pain of excessive magical exertion, trying to think through the sudden fatigue that rolled through her body and mind – what was wrong with her? Her magic didn't just explode like that, not without a reason – and why did it feel so strange, as if it was blazing through her rather than flowing like normal? Her eyes were so heavy, her brain was hazy and dull from the previous outburst – she closed her eyes and surrendered to the exhaustion, her mind fixing on one nagging thought – where was she? Her surroundings were completely unfamiliar to her; she had never seen this room before in her life. Before she could panic or even try to move, the darkness took her under once more.

* * *

The next time she awoke, her body was shivering uncontrollably as the last vestiges of wild energy discharged into the room. She ground her teeth, holding back her screams as she endured. Finally, it was over, a groan escaping her clenched teeth, as the power seemed to leak into the walls – no, not the walls, the Wards within them were absorbing the overflow of magic, all but glowing under the boost of fresh power – as she lay back against the sheets, still trembling a little. She looked around her warily – what was this place? Looking down at herself, she saw that she was in a nightshirt – one of her own – of deep blue with Enchanted broomsticks and bludgers zooming around on the dark background, along with the matching boxer shorts.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice abruptly echoed through the room, apparently from the wall opposite her, there was no-one else in here – she was alone.

"Arielle?"

She stared fixedly at the wall, eyes moving till she spied two runes, glowing faintly, in the upper left side –  _Os_  and  _Gebo_  for communication. That voice had been very familiar, but she wasn't about to answer, not until she knew more about what was going on here.

"Arielle, are you alright? Can you tell me how you feel?"

"What happened? Where am I?" was her only response, as she moved the bedcovers aside, sliding her legs over the side of the bed to sit up. The movement caused the room to whirl about her, as her head spun and her vision blurred. Dizzy, her head slumped forward into her hands, as she propped her elbows on her thighs, and breathed deeply – inhaling through her nose, exhaling from her lips.

"Please, Ari, be careful. Do not move too quickly, not yet." The disembodied voice rang in her ears as she struggled to get her bearings, still breathing deeply as she raised her head, looking to the corner where the sigils still glowed. "It has been nearly two weeks and you have barely moved in all that time, except to struggle and scream while your magic purged."

"What happened?" Ari repeated herself as her vision finally cleared completely, and she could gaze around herself without seeing sparks and white spots in front of her eyes. Apparently realising that she had no intention of communicating freely without some reassurance, the familiar tones sounded out again.

"Hold on, Ari. Look into the centre of the wall; you will be able to see us in just a moment."

Her brow quirked, the centre of the wall was just that – a solid stone wall. Until another set of runes lit up, scrolling through from left to right – and the wall turned clear. There was a room beyond hers, she discovered, a room with four very familiar people peering in at her.

"Kingsley? Andra?" It _was_  Andromeda who had been speaking to her via the runes – or, at least, someone who had taken on her appearance. Given the way she'd woken up isolated and in unfamiliar surroundings, she wasn't prepared to go on faith that everything was as it appeared right now. "What's going on?" Her suspicious stare all but drilled through the clear barrier separating her from the other four, as her intent gaze switched to the other two watching her just as closely. She stood up, staying still for a moment, as her dizziness threatened to make a comeback. She gritted her teeth and paced, slowly, over toward the now-clear wall, halting a few feet away. "Is anyone going to fill me in on the situation, or are you going to leave me in suspense?"

"Ari . . ." Draco Malfoy – or his Polyjuiced imposter – moved up to the barrier, putting his hand against it as he looked in at her. ". . . We thought we lost you, when they told us about the fight in Diagon Alley and that you'd been badly injured in the cross-fire. Then, they told us that something was wrong with your magic – that you were having outbursts – and your body was bearing the brunt of it. It was killing you –  _it might still kill you_  – if we can't find a way to fix it."

"Fix what? What is he talking about?" appealing now to the others to explain, to clear up the confusion that had only increased with Draco's words. Hermione snorted, rolling her eyes in disgust as she moved up beside Draco, digging her pointed elbow into his ribs sharply in reprimand. If this was an imposter, they were good, really good; they had Hermione's mannerisms down pat. Draco winced, rubbing his abused side gingerly, as he bent a rather malicious eye on his companion.

"Ari, you might want to sit down for this. It's a long story, and you're not looking too steady, right now." Hermione gazed at her, a deep worry reflected in the back of her dark-brown eyes as they stared at each other through the transparent wall between them.

"Apparently, I've been lying around for the better part of a fortnight – isn't that enough rest for anybody?" was Ari's ironic rejoinder, even as she submitted with ill grace, looking around and seeing a chair on the other side of the bed. Crossing the room, she grabbed it and carried it back in front of the wall, setting it down and plonking herself on it, leaning forward with her arms propped on her thighs, as she pinned the four in front of her with a suddenly icy emerald glare. "Before we start having this little chat of ours, I suggest that you actually prove to me that you are precisely who you all claim to be, I am an Enforcer, after all," her smile was wide and mirthless, showing a lot of teeth, "As well as a veteran of the Blood War – I've seen Polyjuice and some incredibly elaborate Glamours from up close and personal, I've even used them myself – so I know how it works."

Kingsley bellowed out a great laugh, his deep tones rumbling throughout the chamber where the others stood. "And finally,  _I_ believe it for myself!" he boomed, still chuckling as his dark face split in a relieved grin as he winked at her. "If any of us had doubts before, you've just killed – no,  _flogged and slain_  – them utterly, you are definitely the one and only Arielle Potter."

She smirked coolly. "Considering that I've been here for a while – at least, according to what  _you're_  telling me – I would think that you've had more than sufficient time to discover any possible indications of a false identity, if any were to be found, by now. But, that still doesn't answer  _my_   concerns about this situation," she waved her hand to indicate the lot of them.

Kingsley pursed his lips, and nodded. "Fair enough. Well," he ran his hand over his shaven scalp as he pondered. "After  _that_  meeting . . ." he cocked his eyebrow at her meaningfully as her lips quirked, ever so slightly, ". . . I called you into my office and proceeded to lock the doors, before I gave you the bollocking of your life – or at least, of your career . . ." he recounted the severe dressing-down he had delivered in the privacy of his Ministerial chambers, finishing, ". . . Then I cracked open that barrel of Rosmerta's Oak Mead, and we got absolutely rolling drunk, and laughed about it for the rest of the afternoon."

Ari's lips pulled into a smirk as she stared through the wall, rolling her shoulders casually. "I still maintain my innocence in the matter, and protest that I was unfairly blamed for a malicious prank in which I had no part. Although, I  _am_  surprised you even remember THAT clearly," she cast her mind back to the rather vague impressions in her memory, she had been quite soused that day – the hangover the next morning had been HELL. "'Cause I surely do not, Rossy's mead is a killer – glides down as smooth as a rocking horse, then kicks like a cornered mule."

Kingsley snorted in glee, as Andra glared at him imperiously. "Honestly, Kingsley, and you the Minister of Magic – you all let her get away with murder!"

"How can you punish someone with that face? She'd have the whole entire Auror Corps up in arms with one sad little pout, along with a flutter of her eyelashes, if you suspended her," Draco managed to get the words out between bouts of rather undignified giggling – Malfoy's do not giggle, according to the Law Of Lucius. Draco didn't particularly care. His father could be such an uptight snob, sometimes – well, both of his parents, really. As much as he dearly loved the two of them, Draco had to roll his eyes sometimes over their fixation with How Things Should Be.

One by one, they offered little anecdotes, with details known only to Arielle and the individuals themselves up until now, so that she could be assured that this was not some kind of elaborate setup. She leaned back, processing everything, looking around her before turning back to them. "So . . . this room is clearly designed to isolate me from others. Why?" She regarded them narrowly as the quartet exchanged uneasy glances. "Build the suspense, why don't you?" was her mutter of disgust as she slumped back against the hard, wooden spine of the chair, crossing her legs and staring each of them in the eyes,  _hard_.

She looked through the transparent dividing wall between her and the others, disbelieving of this entire situation. "Well?" she asked. "Someone is eventually gonna have to talk to me, before I start going nuts and break out of here. You know – you  _all_   know – that I don't like being confined."

Kingsley snorted slightly. "Yeah, I think we've managed to work that out over the years. You got hit in some cross-fire out there: you were struck by some very nasty Dark Spells from the last surviving Hydras and got thrown back; unfortunately, you managed to intercept quite a few of the Spells the backup Aurors cast trying to defend you, that they'd intended for  _them_. The combination of whatever you were struck with," he gestured at the room she was in, "Didn't prove to be beneficial to your health. You're in there . . . for protection."

"Protection?" she gave him a look that said she didn't buy it. "Whose _protection_ are we talking about here, Shack? I mean, look at me. I'm locked up in a room with no doors, or windows, just-" she pointed out the barrier between them, "-This, a Warded room – with a magical see-through wall – where apparently others can watch me without my knowledge." Her expression was fierce as she stared at him, coldly. If there was anything that Ari hated, it was the idea of being spied on without her consent – she'd had enough oversight and interference in her life to last her, she wasn't going back to being an overprotected, unwitting pawn for anyone, ever again.

"That is not true, Ari!" Andra exclaimed in dismay. "This  _is_  for your safety, and we would never dream of invading your privacy for some voyeuristic purpose!"

Ari was out of her chair, stalking to the wall and slamming her fist into it. "How did you know that I was awake to begin with, if you aren't watching me? You told me not to move, when I went to sit up, so you must have been able to see me while the wall was still solid! How dare you!"

They all flinched from her wrath. Andra swallowed hard. "There is a viewing panel-"

" _Turn – it – off!_ " her tone was all the more intimidating for being very quiet, with cold menace dripping from every word as she spoke clearly, her eyes all but glowing with rage. "I had a gutful with  _Dumbledore_ -" sneering the name with malice, "-And his fucking minions interfering with every part of my life, trying to manipulate me into being their precious bloody  _golden girl_ , their saviour, so that they wouldn't have to get their hands dirty during the war. Nobody has the right to do that to anyone, but no one spoke up - there was no one who stopped to take a minute and think 'Are we actually doing the right thing, here?', everyone just let him do whatever he wanted to me  _and the people I loved_  – because he was Albus  _bloody_ Dumbledore, so he got away with it."

"Ari, calm down," Draco was face-to-face with her through the barrier, his hands spread in front of him in an attempt at appeasement for the furious woman before him. "The viewing panel was only put in a day ago, when the Healers told us that you were finally showing signs of waking up properly. We can't go in there with you – it's not safe – so they installed it so that we could watch from here when we came in to see you without making you worse."

"Worse? Worse, how? Am I contagious, or something?" she laughed in disbelief as she stared at them. "Come on – you told me that I got taken down in the cross-fire, you don't get diseases or catch infections from Hexes that you can transmit to other people from that."

Draco stepped back, running his palm around the back of his neck as he looked over to Andra. "Aunt Andra? You might want to take this one. I wouldn't even know where to begin." So saying, he went and sat back down, slumped in his chair with an air of defeat that scared Ari more than any words ever could. Draco was never at a loss for words – seven years in Hogwarts together had taught her that.

Andra winced, opening her mouth to speak before she was interrupted by the opening of the door behind her and the others. They turned around, and Ari cocked her head curiously, as two female Goblins walked in, one holding a tray of food as the other held the door for them. The one who had held the tray walked straight to the wall where Ari was watching, staring up at her solemnly, as the other remained at the door holding it ajar. "I believe that you humans have a saying," she spoke calmly, "That to  _see_  is to  _believe_. I think that my sister and I can assist you with that." She turned to the others in the room. "You know what to do."

All four nodded, standing as Hermione looked to Ari. "We'll be right outside, Ari. Everything is fine, you're not in danger."

"If this isn't dangerous, why are you leaving?"

"Because while you are safe with  _them,_  right now,  _we_  are not safe to be around you." Hermione spoke over her shoulder as she filed out the door after the other three. She turned in the doorway to look back. "We will explain everything when we come back in, I promise." The little Goblin shut the door as Hermione stepped out of the way; there were tears pooling in her brown eyes as she stared at Ari, pleading silently for her friend's understanding.

The door closed, and Ari was left alone with the two little women. The one with the tray introduced them both, "I am Joba, Miss Potter, and my sister is Gulan," the other woman waved at her distractedly as she crossed to the panel that contained several inlaid runic arrays, pressing her clawed hand on one set that lit up beneath her fingers. Ari stepped back as the wall in front of her parted like a set of electronic sliding doors. Joba came through with the tray as Gulan followed her in, both walking over to the bedside table and indicating for Ari to follow them. After looking over her shoulder at the door, she did, seating herself on the edge of the bed.

Gulan was standing just across from her while Joba set down the tray and turned back around, both Goblins simply stared at Arielle. She stared back, arching her brow in question, the females seemed familiar for some reason, but Ari was sure she'd never met them before. This impression was only reinforced by the fact that Joba had just introduced herself and her sister to her.

Then, she felt something. Her magic was stirring, rising inside her. She was confused, she hadn't called on it and she didn't particularly enjoy how it felt at this moment. It was fierce and edgy, almost burning under her skin as it  _moved_ through her as though it was a living thing, separate of her will. It seemed to be reaching for something, calling out, but she didn't know why or what it wanted. Gulan's hand was suddenly holding her right hand, as Joba's clawed fingers grasped her left. "Don't be afraid, Miss Potter," Gulan spoke up for the first time, "No one in this room will come to any harm, we are here to help you."

"What are you talking about?" Ari almost gasped out, panting a little from the heavy sensation of her magic gathering in her, prickling along her skin. Her pupils dilated as she looked at them, the feeling was  _so intense_ , and they only smiled at her.

"Let it go, dearie," was all Gulan would say.

"Let . . . what . . . go?" she couldn't catch her breath properly in between the sudden surges that swept her, the magic pulsing in time with her heart, building . . .  _and pulling_. She gasped out in alarm, trying to tear her hands free, but the two women held on tight as their magic surged from them  _into_ Arielle. Both their heads were slumped forward from the sheer speed of the magic flowing from them, they let the energy go where it willed, as Arielle flung her head back and screamed. Her magic was swelling, almost bloated from the waves of power being sucked into her, filling her up to the point of bursting, before it surged back out of her – back towards Joba and Gulan, still clinging onto her hands. It entered them once more, as they gasped in agony – or ecstasy – it was hard to tell which as they quivered under the onslaught. It felt like it went on forever – an endless loop of magic from Arielle to the Goblins and back again, flowing through all of them. Finally, the surges ebbed, as Arielle slumped in exhaustion, her vision darkening around the edges as she fell to her side on the bed. The two women released her hands, Joba walked up towards where Ari's head lolled on the bed; she was struggling to catch her breath.

"You mustn't fall asleep yet, Miss Potter. You need to eat, and speak with your friends." Joba managed to pull Ari back into a sitting position on the bed, pulling a bottle from her dress and handing it to her. "A little Pepper-Up to boost your energy, dearie," she claimed, smiling at the girl.

"W-what h-h-ha-happened?" Ari slurred, barely conscious at this point, as she struggled with the stopper on the vial of potion. It popped off suddenly, almost slipping through her rubbery fingers as she clutched at it frantically. She managed to hang on, lifting it to her lips and sipping delicately. She felt it immediately, sitting up a bit straighter, as the bright spots in her vision faded away. The lightheaded, dizzy sensation passed as she continued to sip, eyeing the tray on the table with sudden interest.

"You've been in a very bad way, for a while now, ever since the attack in Diagon Alley," Joba explained as she pulled the bedside table over towards where Arielle was seated, arranging it in front of her. "You probably won't remember us, seeing as it's the first time you've been truly conscious and aware since then, but my sister and I have been looking after you here since you were brought in."

"Thank you," Ari offered, as she continued to sip at the vial. "I don't really understand any of this, or what just happened, but somehow I get the feeling that I'm very grateful for all that you've done for me. You're right, I don't remember you or Gulan," waving her hand towards the other woman, as she busied herself with the chair in front of the wall, bringing it back to settle it before the table, "But you do seem familiar, in a way."

"Your subconscious mind more than likely has retained impressions of having us with you, as we've been the main caretakers over the last week and a half, working through these flare-ups you keep having. Thankfully, you seem to be settling down a bit now, though you still have a very long way to go before you're truly healed. You're certainly welcome though, dearie," Joba responded, as she reached out her hand for the vial in Ari's, empty now. Ari handed it over and stood up at Gulan's beckoning gesture to sit down in the chair to eat. "I only wish we could do more, honestly, but circumstances being what they are," Joba trailed off, sighing heavily.

"What do you mean?" Ari had picked up the knife and fork as Joba spoke, but she set them down again as she turned to address the short little female.

Joba smiled thinly. "Perhaps we should leave those answers for your friends to explain, we should leave now just in case your magic decides to get going again, anyway."

"Again?" Ari's dismay was obvious as she stared at the two who were moving to the open wall between the two rooms.

They exited her room, Gulan once more moving to the command panel to close the partition, even as Ari stood up in slight panic at the thought of being shut in again. Joba held up her hand gently, calmly. "Please, Miss Potter, for your own safety. You are not being locked in, as much as the world is being kept out, so you cannot be harmed. You don't know just how fragile your health is right now, with your magic as wild as it is. Whenever we have come to you previously, to let your magic call upon ours and return it to us, it has always been right after one of the random surges that you've been prone to – when your body and your power is momentarily drained, quiescent – otherwise that flow of energy, the push and pull between us all, would have been much more violent and unrestrained."

"More than THAT?" Ari was incredulous. "It felt like I was caught in a tsunami as it was – and you're telling me it could have been worse. What is wrong with me, how can my magic do that to you, and why would you allow me to draw from you like that? I could have killed you!"

Joba sighed, turning to watch as Gulan opened the door to allow the others to file back into the adjoining room, now that the wall had sealed itself once more. She twisted back around to face Ari through the barrier. "The outburst you felt before – the one that awoke you after all this time you have spent unconscious – was one of the mildest that you have had since you were brought here, and it is the only one that you've had . . . today." Ari's mouth worked silently, in obvious shock. Joba just smiled, a little sadly. "Talk to your friends, Miss Potter. They can explain all that they know, and try to help you understand." She bowed a little, inclining her head respectfully, as Ari nodded back unsurely; still stunned by everything that had occurred. "And eat." The little Goblin demanded as she walked towards the door that her sister was holding wide. "It will not do for you to undo all our hard work, by not keeping up your strength." With that, the two exited, Gulan closing the door as they left, leaving the five humans alone in the divided chambers.

Ari looked over her shoulder at the table and chair, and sighed, stalking over impatiently to sit. She picked up the knife and fork again, digging in. It was good – tomato soup, mashed potato and beans, carrots and snow peas with fresh-cooked bread for the soup. She polished off a bite, before addressing the four sitting in the other room again. "Y'know, it's gonna get real uncomfortable, having you all sitting around, watching me eat. So, as an alternative," she smiled coolly, looking at them with hard emerald eyes, "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened to me, and why I suddenly seem to have turned into . . ." she gestured with the hand holding her knife, ". . . Some sort of magical . . . Vampire?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: So, what was THAT all about?
> 
> For those interested, the rune Os means mouth, so essentially communication through words or writing. Gebo literally means gift, but the definition I have refers more to the connection between people when a gift is given, the link between the giver and the receiver. For the purposes of my story, they work together to function much as a phone or intercom would, communication between two separate places linked by the Runes.


	7. Chapter 6: Once Upon A September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wary young girl finds the last of her family in a strange new land . . . and Arielle is going back to school - oh, what fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See first chapter.
> 
> A/N: So . . . ahem . . . yeah, a bit not good, I know *looks down at ground in shame* It's been a while since I updated. So sorry, many apologies, I've been working so hard on keeping my writing going and posting on my main site ff.net that I totally forgot about maintaining my posts on here as well. I will fix this, I swear . . . three weeks with no update means I'm three chapters overdue, so over the next few days you'll get all of those chapters. Hope you'll like them :)

Chapter 6: Once Upon A September

September 994

In the unclaimed lands west of the Atlantic Ocean

_She Listened intently as she huddled against the trunk of the ancient oak tree, she was high up amongst the branches where it was nearly impossible to see her from the ground – which was exactly what she had intended. The wind blew softly through the trees, rustling the leaves and brushing past her cheeks, it whispered to her as she sat there silently. She could sense nothing out of place; there were no signs of any presence that could pose a threat. Relaxing slightly, yet still alert, she turned her attention to the small leather satchel in her hand. Quickly, she opened it and removed one of the rolls of parchment within. Carefully unrolling the fragile document she studied the words written on it once more, even though she could have recited the contents from memory by now._

_It was the last letter that her family had received from Ione, her sister, a little over two years ago now. It was news that they had welcomed with much celebration; Ione and Eiríkr were now the proud parents of twin daughters, Hana and Kaelin, born just before the end of winter in 991. She remembered that Abbi leapt out of his chair and lifted her into his strong arms, dancing them all around the room as Ummi laughed and clapped. They had been so happy, then. How could they have known that everything would change?_

_She closed her eyes, determined not to falter – now was not the time or the place, she had to concentrate. Shaking her head, she opened her eyes and settled herself on the branch. She breathed in, holding the air in her lungs as she focussed on the parchment she held before her. She leaned in, bringing her face close so that her nose almost brushed the surface . . . and exhaled, slowly and deliberately, over the soft, thin skin. Her mind was intent on her purpose, waiting for the magic to take hold. Her eyes narrowed fractionally, as the words on the page appeared to move for a moment. The writing blurred, and it was as though the parchment was bleeding, as the black ink welled up and ran along the surface to gather at the point where Ione's and Eiríkr's names were signed along with two tiny inked handprints. Ione's elegant script had marked each print with the name of the daughter it belonged to._

_As much as she hated to sacrifice this affirmation of her family – one of the few remaining pieces of proof that she was not alone – it was her best chance for the spell to work, as they had all left their mark on the parchment in one way or another. Such things held great significance . . . and power. Once all of the ink had pooled into that one place, she whispered the words that gave life to her will – words of magic, of seeking, as she wove her power and intent into the charm, speaking their names clearly. The ink was no longer black, first turning red and then to gold, and floating off the parchment, forming into a tiny ball of liquid as the parchment caught alight. She released it as it crumbled to fine black ash, watching as the orb hung suspended in the air for a moment. Once more, she observed intently as it changed from liquid into pure light, softly incandescent. She waited patiently._

_The light brightened suddenly, and then softened again. Once, twice, thrice, the pattern continued, until the light suddenly flickered and the colour went from gold to an eerie shade of blue, casting odd shadows over the face of the watching girl as she hissed and leaned forward in anticipation. The light pulsed once more, and then glided over to her, hovering in front of her face. Closing the bag, she bundled it into her dirty tunic and stood, touching the light with her left index finger as she did. The ball of light seemed to swell at her touch, before it suddenly flew away through the trees. She raced after it, running along the branch as easily as though she was strolling along the ground, surefooted and agile. Towards the end of the limb, she leapt into the next tree, climbing and darting through the tops of the trees like a wire-dancer. She followed behind the charm unerringly as she jumped over branches and ducked under the trailing leaves that blocked her pursuit. Onwards she travelled through the darkness, never losing sight of the glowing orb as it led her through the heavy forest towards that which she sought._

_She stopped suddenly, going into a crouch and freezing in place, as her intuition warned her. She was motionless, something was not right here . . . she could feel it. Her options were limited – the tracking charm would only last as long as she was focussed on it, which meant that she could not cast another spell to locate the source of her disquiet – she could only use her natural instincts to evade the danger. She was so close – she knew it in her heart – and she was not about to lose her chance now, not when she had already come so far! It would be fine as long as she was alert. Her eyes narrowed at the orb which had stopped when she had, it was hovering in the air, waiting for her to start moving again. She held out her hand, and the light drifted over to her, floating above her hand before descending into the cradle of her palm. Best not to take any chance, she concluded, if the threat was from another witch, her spell could draw their attention if it was left out in the open. In her hands, the sphere would only signal if she went the wrong way – it was slower, but safer._

_Stepping off the branch, she plummeted towards the ground and landed on her feet, crouching slightly as she scanned her surroundings cautiously. Nothing. She rolled her shoulders tensely, she had been in the trees for a reason – there were not very many predators that could get to her, or at least not without a great deal of effort. She shrugged away her irritation and concentrated. Drawing in a breath and holding it, she closed her eyes. Her magic was there, ready and waiting. She drew it deep inside, to the point where she could only faintly sense it, concealing her power to lessen the chances of detection by any who might wish her harm. Opening her eyes, she blew out her breath and straightened her shoulders. Her face was resolute, eyes swiftly flickering about her as she strode on, watching and listening carefully. She would not turn back now!_

* * *

_She was crouched on a branch once more, not as high as before because this tree was a sapling, some thirty feet tall. Her spine was tingling in agitation as she eyed the little cabin that the spell had led her to – was this it? Had she really made it after all this time? She wanted to believe that it was so, but her experiences in the past had left her deeply wary. She had been hurt before, hunted down like an animal by those that claimed they only wished to help her._

_The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. The Darkness that she had sensed previously was closer than ever, and it felt cold and spiteful, like icy fingernails being dragged across her skin . . . it had to be here! Whatever –_ or whoever _– this Darkness came from; they were here in this village. She was suddenly afraid – if Eiríkr and Ione really were here – were they in danger? She certainly was not going to find out by sitting in a tree all night, she decided, slipping off the branch and jumping back down to the ground. Looking around carefully to ensure that she was unseen, she dashed across the open space between the edge of the woods and the cabin – oh, bless the spirits, that this house was built well away from all the others, she thought. If everything went well and she had finally found her sister, the knowledge of her presence here in the village would be a secret, held only by their family._

_Now, how to do this . . . it was very late, and they were probably sleeping. It could not be helped, though, as waiting until morning would only heighten the chances of her being discovered. She crouched under the eastern window, where chinks in the wooden shutters showed faint traces of candlelight from the small house – someone was still awake. She peeked through one of the larger cracks – the interior was one large room with four people inside, two children were asleep in the large bed against the far wall, and the two adults were sitting by the fire-pit in the centre, a male and a female. The woman was certainly a witch – witches always knew their own kind – but there was only one way to find out if this was her family . . . the only family she had left. She sensed no threat or malice here, no warning to stay away, so she steeled her nerve and crept towards the door._

_Exhaling softly, she faced away from the door and out towards the clearing around the log cabin. She raised her hands as she concentrated – envisioning a wall between this house and the others in the tiny settlement. Feeling the magical barrier snap into place, she huffed in relief. She scanned the night-shrouded village warily, watching for any sign that the magic of the sealing spell had been detected. She had not forgotten the possible threat that lurked here – using magic could prove to be dangerous – but there was no other way. She could not risk having the whole village woken up by any commotion from the house if this did not go well. The invisible seal would prevent that, by keeping all sounds from passing through until the spell was lifted._

_Turning back, she whispered under her breath as her eyes looked intently at the wooden shutters she had previously knelt under. The invisible force tapped on the window. The voices within the cabin suddenly cut off – there was utter silence. She waited tensely, listening. Her body stiffened when she heard the slight scraping of leather against steel, her eyes widened – a blade sliding from a scabbard! Reacting quickly, she focussed on all the doors and windows and tapped on all of them with magic – simultaneously. She heard a soft gasp, and then a slight push against her magic. She held her ground and answered the call firmly – determined to show that she was not to be trifled with. Rapid footsteps moved towards the door; it seemed the male did not appreciate being trifled with either, especially when his home was apparently under attack. Lighter, quicker footsteps padded after his, before both stopped just short of the door. Though she strained her ears, she heard nothing from inside until it seemed that the man slowly shifted away from the door. A dull, heavy_ thwap _sounded, followed by a sharp squeal that was quickly stifled – good gods, she thought, backing away fearfully – had he_ hit _her? She darted her eyes around, all but bouncing on the spot in her agitation – she did not know whether to stay or to flee into the night – now that there was the prospect of dealing with a large, potentially violent man. Been there, done that – and she had scars to prove it, she thought with a shiver – never again. The door inched open before she could flee, and she froze. She could not move as the witch stared through the slender gap, looking into the night and wrinkling her brow in confusion when she did not see anyone._

_The girl stared at her – the dark hair and eyes, it had to be her sister – she was just like Ummi! "Io?" she asked, barely audible as she tried to speak through a throat that suddenly felt dry and itchy, and the backs of her eyes were burning. The woman's eyes snapped down – she knew those eyes! She had seen them every day whenever she looked at her mother. The woman never spoke, just frowned slightly and raised her head to peer about her once more. Feeling the slight push of power once again, the girl waited patiently – the witch would be able to See for herself that she was here alone. Withdrawing her probe, the woman tilted her head as she studied the other. They observed one another warily, until the older female seemed to make up her mind. She opened the door wide and knelt down, perhaps to seem less intimidating to the other, but the girl shrank back as the man growled angrily – he was huge! Standing next to the bed where the children slept on, peacefully oblivious, he glared menacingly across to where she stood in the shadows. He made no move to advance, though, remaining with the babes – he was guarding them, protecting them from any threat, she thought. It was somehow reassuring to her, as she knew that Abbi had been the same way when his family was threatened._

_Still timid, she stepped cautiously back into the doorway, tense and nervous as she waited for their reaction to her appearance. The female's eyes widened, as the man sucked in air sharply, looking at her intently. She stiffened as he suddenly stalked to the door, stopping beside his wife and falling to his knees as they peered at her – no, at her eyes. The people in al-Gulawesi had always said she had Abbi's eyes. Bright red hair gleamed in the soft light in the room as he leaned toward her slightly. She shrank away again – men made her uneasy. She still remembered that it had not always been so – her father had been unfailingly tender with her and his wife, her mother. She knew that, but she had learned other things as well – a man was stronger than a woman, stronger than a child. Men were only gentle if they wanted to be, and she had seen what could happen when a man decided to use his greater strength against those who were weaker than himself. She was startled out of her grim musings on the horrors of her past as he whispered in disbelief, "Marta?"_

_She frowned at him, brows drawn tight at the strange word. Marta? What was marta? Perhaps this was a mistake . . . she should just leave and stay hidden from all others. It surely would not be so bad to be on her own, she had been alone all this time. Looking from one to the other, she noted their strange expressions – their bodies were still and quiet, as their eyes asked something that she did not understand. What did they want from her? The word he had spoken, 'Marta,' echoed quietly inside her mind as she studied him. His bright hair sparked something in her memory, along with those pale eyes . . ._

    . . . "Marta!" she giggled merrily as she ran along the dusty road, unheeding of the yells from the annoyed youth chasing after her, calling for her to come back. She did not want to go home yet, she wanted to run and explore – how she loved to run – sometimes, she thought that if she just ran fast enough, she might just leave the earth beneath her feet behind and fly through the air. She often watched the wild birds – "Marta!" a long, pale arm shot out from behind her and curled around her waist. Her feet left the ground involuntarily as he plucked her up into his arms, even as she kicked and squealed in protest.

    He turned her in his arms and sternly ignored her shrill objections, as she pouted up at the scowling young man with his long, red hair falling wildly around his face. A light sweat had broken out along his temples from running after her, causing loose strands of hair to stick to his flushed cheeks as he perched her on his waist and turned back towards their home. She pounded on his chest with her tiny fists, demanding that he listen to her. "NO! No, Arik!" . . .

_"M-m-m-ar-t-ta?" The hoarse rasp of her own voice startled her as she spoke – testing out the name from her distant memories – perhaps being all alone was not such a good thing, she mused inwardly. Apart from the use of the words needed for her spells and blessings along her journey, she had been silent for the most part . . . there had been few people that she had met on the way that she wished to talk to, and she was not in the habit of speaking to herself. Was it possible to forget how to talk at all, if one did not speak for a long period of time, she wondered. Her own name had almost been lost to her – she was not Marta, as this man had named her – to Ummi and Abbi, she was Ma`at. Her head angled slightly towards them although her body was still balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to flee at any moment – she could not decide what to do._

_His eyes had widened slightly at the sound of her voice, and his face softened slightly – as if he was willing her to remember him, to trust them. Her eyes darted to the witch, who stared back at her with those eyes that she knew so well, eyes that carried the same emotions that she had seen on that day – the last day with her mother and father before they told her to flee, to run far away and never look back. Love – she remembered it, knew that she had loved Ummi and Abbi, just as they cherished her in turn; pain – the anguish of parting from them, and understanding that she would never see them again; hope – her father had knelt before her and looked deep into her eyes as he told her that he was so proud of her, his little fledgling, knowing that she was ready to leave their nest and fly free . . . she would travel over the seas to the western lands and find her sister, and they would be a family together. She saw all of these feelings, and more, in her sister's eyes. This was her sister – "Io? Io and . . . Arik? Ummi and Abbi told me to come here, to find Io and Arik." She switched her gaze between them, gauging their reactions. Ione closed her eyes and pressed her fisted hand against her mouth, seeming to stifle a sob, as Eiríkr huffed and his mouth tilted slightly. Was he smiling? She was unsure._

_All doubt was removed as he beamed at her, his grey eyes tender and warm. "Yes, Marta. Do you remember? You were only a baby . . . you could not say our names so your sister was Io, and I was Arik. I remember chasing you around the house, because Ummi Zafira wanted you to bathe, and all you wished to do was run wild," he finished quietly, smiling at the memories._

_"I loved to run . . . but what I really wanted to do was fly," she said softly, peeking at him shyly from under her lashes. He bit his lip in surprise, before he snorted in amusement. His deep chuckles choked off in a gasp as he twisted his upper body to peer behind him. A tiny form stepped around him from where she had been standing right behind his tall frame, unseen by the other three. The little girl, with her long red hair tangled from sleeping, rubbed at her eyes tiredly and gazed at Ma`at curiously. Her twin was awake as well, clutching at her mother's tunic with both of her tiny hands, her face buried in the cloth, even as she sneaked shy glances at this mysterious guest._

_"Kaelin! What are you and Hana doing out of bed?" Eiríkr scolded the child, frowning heavily at her. She was completely unintimidated by his dark scowl, giving him a sunny, gap-toothed smile. Kaelin's dark eyes turned back to the new arrival, studying her intently, before pointing a chubby finger in her direction._

_"Ours?" she questioned curiously. She took a small step towards the older girl, cocking her head as she stared up at her, completely unfazed at finding a total stranger in her home so late. She stepped forward again before she paused suddenly, wrinkling her little nose in disgust. Her tiny hand clapped over her nose and she gagged a little, eyes watering as she tottered back into her father's arms. Ma`at winced, and muttered slightly in embarrassment, feeling her cheeks grow hot in shame – "Bath!" came Kaelin's slightly muffled squawk, as her hand was still covering her mouth and nose – it was not as if Ma`at did not recognise her dishevelled state! She was absolutely filthy, caked in sweat and mud and blood – she knew that – but ever since she had arrived on the shores of this land, she had been determined to find her family. She had not wanted to risk losing the trail by trying to find a creek or river to swim in._

_Ione's hand reached out and took hers, pressing lightly as Ma`at stared at her. She smiled gently in reassurance as Eiríkr stood, nudging Kaelin gently over towards her mother and sister as Ione spoke huskily, "This is your Khālah, girls, your Aunt Ma`at. She has come to us from over the great sea, from the eastern lands." As she was speaking, Eiríkr had moved outside, carefully walking wide around Ma`at. "And yes," Ione continued, "I think we can arrange for her to have a bath. I know that she will be relieved to be clean and fresh again." Ma`at was no longer paying attention to her sister's words; she was staring after Eiríkr anxiously as he stood halfway between the house and the trees, looking around with his hands on his hips._

_She tugged her hand free of Ione's and ran out to him, clutching a fistful of his breeches and tugging to get his attention. He looked down at her in confusion, lips parting to question her actions, but she cut him off. "Eiríkr, it is not safe out here. The Darkness might find us if we are too far away from the house."_

_"Dark-?"_

_"Eiríkr!" she hissed frantically, tugging at his tunic now, darting her eyes around in panic – the barrier was still there, but it was only a spell to keep any sound from passing through the seal, it was not meant to keep people out. And if a witch was actively scrying, they might sense the seal or pierce it if they were powerful enough – it was NOT safe out here in the open! She looked imploringly at Ione – surely she could talk some sense into her stubborn husband. Ione frowned in bewilderment at Ma`at's sudden dread, before she lifted her head and studied the area around them warily – she knew that her little sister was very powerful, she had felt it earlier – if she was scared, there must be a good reason. She looked to her husband, her eyes apprehensive._

_Eiríkr gazed back, his eyes narrowing as he cast them about guardedly . . . he did not see anything, but_ he _was not a witch. He knew there could be other forces at work that he would not be able to sense – he had grown up in the home of a powerful witch, after all. Zafira Thessalias was the mother of Ione and Ma`at, and his foster-mother. He scooped Ma`at into his arms as he strode back to the house, waving Ione back inside with the girls as he swiftly entered and closed the door behind him. He bolted the door, and walked to the wooden bench in front of the fireplace in the centre of the house, still carrying Ma`at. Up until Kaelin had made her distaste so clear, he had ignored the girl's rather pitiful state – but with her head tucked under his chin, it was difficult to overlook the . . . ripe . . . odour of her small body._

_He looked over his shoulder – the twins had followed along behind him – but Ione was halfway between the hearth and the door with her back turned, seemingly staring at the wall. Her back stiffened suddenly, and her head turned to look over her shoulder at her sister. "Is that-"_

_"-No. That is the seal I put up," was Ma`at's quick response to her sister's concern. Eiríkr rolled his eyes – witches and their spells! "I was not sure if I had the right place," she continued, quietly. "If I had been wrong, I had to be able to run away quickly without having others chasing after me – so I put up a spell to make sure no one in the village could hear." Her explanation was quiet as she stared seriously at Ione, willing her to understand her reasons._

_Ione's eyes widened in shock. "You can perform a sealing spell?" she asked blankly, before waving her hand impatiently. "What am I saying? Obviously, you can, as I can feel it." She rolled her eyes at herself, walking towards them. "What Darkness did you speak of, sister? Why were you so afraid?" she asked tenderly, coming to stand behind her husband as her hand smoothed over his shoulder to rest against her sister's cheek. "Tell us, little pearl," she whispered. "Let us share your worries, you are not alone any longer."_

_Eiríkr interjected, desperately wanting answers to the questions that had been burning in his mind ever since he had realised who it was that had come to their home in the middle of the night. "Marta," he shifted her weight so that she looked at him. "Where are Ummi Zafira and Abbi Leandros?" Her little face fell at his question, her skin blanching in shock as her eyes went dark. Ione's hand fell from her cheek to clench – hard – on his broad shoulder, as her breathing quickened in distress._

_"Eiríkr," she whispered harshly, but he did not relent. He had to know – how was it that his little Marta had come to them like this – where were her parents? Ma`at buried her face against his shoulder, as her too-thin arms wound tightly around his neck. He felt the shivers that raced through her and raged silently at her condition – she was so thin and filthy, and her clothing was barely fit to be called rags, hanging off her in tattered folds – who had allowed this to happen? She was half-starved and almost feral, as if she had fended for herself for too long. His eyes closed as he swallowed hard – part of him had known the moment that he had seen her, but he had tried to deny it in his heart – he felt Ione press herself against his back as she shook with silent sobs, he knew that she wept because he could feel the wetness on her cheeks against his spine._

_There was no way that Zafira and Leandros Thessalias would ever have allowed their youngest child to make such a perilous journey on her own –_ not as long as they were alive _._

_The thought was enough to turn his legs to sand; he turned to wrap his free arm around his wife, sinking down onto the wooden plank with the sisters in his arms as his throat swelled with grief. Kaelin and Hana had been standing there silently, confused and upset by all the tension in the air that they did not understand, but now Kaelin hurled herself against her father's legs as she began to sniffle. Hana climbed onto the bench and curled up in her mother's lap before she began to cry as well. Ma`at let go of Eiríkr's neck, plucking Kaelin off the floor and into his lap with her, curling her arms around the distraught child as Eiríkr held them all tightly and mourned for their loss._

_A long time later, Eiríkr stirred as a coal burst in the hearth, sending up sparks. The twins had succumbed to their exhaustion a while ago as Kaelin snored lightly against Ma`at's chest. Ione was staring into the fire, her eyes swollen and red though her tears had dried up long before. He ran his hand over her cheek until she looked up at him. He nodded his head towards Hana, her cheek resting on Ione's hip, as she slumbered on. Ione nodded and sat up, taking care not to disturb the peaceful child as she gave her to her father. Ma`at gently rolled Kaelin from her lap to Eiríkr's, hopping down once the little girl was secure, so that he could stand. Holding the two girls easily, he silently jerked his head towards one corner of the house, closed off with a woollen blanket hanging from the ceiling. Ione nodded, quirking her lip slightly. Eiríkr bent down, kissing Ma`at softly on the forehead before he whispered goodnight as she stared up at him solemnly and whispered goodnight back._

_After kissing his wife, he walked over to the large bed and lay down, cradling the girls against him as he snuggled under the covers and closed his eyes. Ione ran her hand over Ma`at's snarled mess of hair and sighed a little. She walked to the hearth and crouched to pick up an iron poker with a hook at the end. She scooped a hot, clay brick out of the ashes with the hook, laying it on an iron tray, and dug around in the ashes until she had five bricks. Using the wooden handle on the end to pick up the tray, she gestured for her sister to go ahead of her to the corner. Ducking under the blanket and holding it out of the way for Ione, she saw a large iron tub that even Eiríkr could have sat in quite comfortably. Ione dipped her hand in, before flicking her fingers at her sister with a slight grin. Ma`at sucked in a sharp breath and wriggled at the sudden chill – the water in that tub was freezing! She glared at her sister, who only smirked back and shifted the tray. So that was what the bricks were for, she realised._

_Ione set the tray down to pick up a wooden bucket that sat beside the metal basin. She scooped it through the water, filling it and setting it down. She nodded at Ma`at to strip off, which the girl did; grateful to be rid of the dirty rags. She was more careful with the tunic, removing the few things that she had carried with her on the way; a sling, a small knife, and the leather case. She handed it to her sister. Ione gasped in shock, she knew it well. It was her – their – father's, kept from his days as a soldier serving in the Imperial Army of Al-Andalus. A cavalry commander, her father had used it often to transport military records between the provinces. Once her father had returned home, however, it had served to hold the keepsakes that her father had considered most precious._

_She looked to her sister, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as she smiled. "Bless you, sister, bless you," she whispered fervently. Ma`at smiled back and the sisters hugged, Ione shedding a few tears of mingled sorrow and joy – her parents were gone, but all was not lost, her little sister had survived and come to them. And she had carried that bag with her all that time, knowing that it was precious, refusing to discard it. Ione wiped her eyes and smiled down at Ma`at. "Let us get you cleaned up." Ma`at nodded fervently – she was more than ready to be rid of this filth!_

_Ione picked up a piece of linen, dipping it into the water before wrapping up one of the hot bricks and placing it into the bucket. The water steamed furiously as Ma`at winced at the hissing sound and jerked her thumb at the curtain, silently asking if the noise would wake them up. Ione shook her head with a smile, crooking her finger. When Ma`at stood beside her, she whispered in her ear, "My daughters take after their father – once they are asleep, they will not wake up until they get hungry, or thirsty." Ma`at giggled softly, and the sisters smiled at each other. The steaming subsided, and Ione dipped her finger into the bucket. Taking it out, she nodded. "Perfect," she pulled the linen-covered stone out, and put it in the tub before handing her a cloth and a small piece of soap. "Scrub," she ordered, as she grabbed a cloth of her own. Together, they worked quickly to lather the smaller girl's hair and body, rubbing at the layers of dirt. To look at her now, no one would believe that she was blonde, Ma`at thought, as she pulled a matted clump of dirty hair forward, and curled her lip in disgust. Ione just clicked her tongue, "Glaring at it will do no good, little pearl; it will have to be scrubbed, one piece at a time." Ma`at huffed as she released the strands._

_"The water is too dirty," she declared, looking at the murky liquid in the bucket._

_Ione nodded in agreement. "I will empty it, and grab the hairbrush. Wait here," she ducked under the blanket, Ma`at heard the back door open and then close quietly as the older woman went to empty the dirty water, she shivered a little at the cool air that came through the door. She scooped up a handful of the water in the tub, and ran it over her head, letting it soak into her hair. Ma`at was rubbing at her scalp when Ione walked back in; she could feel all the grit and sweat as she ran her hands through. She winced, and gritted her teeth as her fingers caught painfully in the knotted curls. Ione refilled the bucket from the basin and put the last sliver of the soap inside, before taking over from her sister's attempts to untangle her snarled locks. She knelt behind Ma`at, getting her to lean forward as she dipped the brush into the water, before pulling it through her hair as gently as she could. Over and over, the brush stroked through Ma`at's long curls, Ione patiently working at the seemingly endless knots until they came free. The hard bristles managed to remove most of the mud and debris clinging to her hair as well, and finally her hair was free of the last tangles. Both heaved a sigh of relief; Ma`at was nearly in tears from the pain of the hard brush yanking at the snarls, while Ione was thankful that there had been no need to cut away any of the stubborn knots in her hair._

_She placed all of the bricks in to the tub – in the time it took to brush Ma`at's hair, they had cooled from red-hot to merely warm – so that her sister would be comfortable in the water. Ma`at needed no urging, all but diving in, and sighing contentedly at the warmth. Ione grinned as she splashed happily, cleaning the last stubborn bits of dirt and sweat from her skin before she ducked under the water to rinse the soap suds from her hair._

_Ione offered her hand as Ma`at grasped it to pull herself up and out. Dried off, and dressed in a clean tunic of Ione's, they each took one side of the tub and lifted. Carefully, they walked out the back door. Ione had a small garden planted against the side of the cabin, so they emptied the tub over it. Ione snorted in amused exasperation at Ma`at, who was dancing about the clearing gleefully, revelling in the fresh autumn air. She quickly reminded Ione about the seal, and they rounded the cabin so that she could take it down. Walking back inside with the basin, they quickly mopped up the rest of the spilled water and suds._

_Ione put the bricks back in the ashes of the pit, as Ma`at picked up her sling and knife, tucking them into the tunic, and wandered over to the bed, yawning widely. She crawled under the blankets as Ione joined her, spooning together comfortably. Ma`at was warm again for the first time in a very long time, curled up against Eiríkr's side as he rumbled softly in his sleep, and Ione lay against her back and held her close. The soft darkness had nearly taken her under when she felt Ione lean down to her ear to whisper lovingly, "Welcome to Sætrevatn, little pearl. Welcome home."_

_She smiled. This is what family feels like, she thought, with her eyes closing as her mind drifted away. She was finally safe, and warm, and loved. She was_ home _._

* * *

Early September 2009

Mystic Falls, Virginia USA

    The itchy, tickling sensation that felt like little spiders' legs on her face made her nose twitch as she wriggled slightly in protest. "No!" she whimpered, as she snuggled deeper into the blankets, trying to suppress the idea of what the warmth on her skin and the growing light in the room meant. She was perfectly comfortable right where she was, thank you very much, warm and sleepy and relaxed, and she didn't feel like getting up right now.

_Mrrraoww!_ Groaning in disgust at the demanding wail, as the inquisitive kneazle had apparently given up on waking her up subtly by brushing her whiskers over Ari's face, she slitted one eye open to glare at her new familiar, thoroughly unimpressed at the early morning wake-up call. "How come, whenever  _you_   want to sleep in  _I_   get scratched for disturbing your nap, but it's not okay for me to sleep past dawn when you want attention, hmm?" she murmured grumpily to the preening feline. Happy that her mistress was awake and talking to her, and blithely dismissing her irritable greeting, Maarit purred at her, nuzzling her face as she rumbled contentedly. Ari screwed up her face as she sputtered at Maarit's enthusiastic greeting – a mouthful of kneazle-hair was NOT her idea of breakfast! Flopping over onto her back, she resigned herself to waking up properly . . . her familiar obviously had no intentions of being ignored.

    Staring up at the ceiling, her mind went back over all of the events that had lead her here, to this small Virginian town in the United States, so far away from her home in Britain. Maarit hopped onto her belly as she pondered, circling around before lying down on her side and chuffing at her mistress. Ari responded idly, stroking Maarit's sleek coat with one hand as she propped the other under her head, still staring unseeingly at the ceiling above.

* * *

    Once she had regained consciousness in the unfamiliar surroundings of the Goblin Enclave she'd been taken to for safety, everything had seemed to happen so fast.

_. . . "Tell us about what you remember, the last details that you can recall about that day, and what you went through." Andromeda had asked . . ._

    So she had – certain details had been omitted, of course, considering the people she was speaking with . . . other than Kingsley as the Minister of Magic, they were technically civilians – right up until just after the fight against the trio of attackers that she had ended with the  _shuriken_  and the twister.

    Finally, she demanded that they tell her why she was isolated as she had been . . . what was wrong with her?

_. . . "A magical vampire – I suppose that it is as good a term as any that we have found, so far." Andra had half-laughed as she spoke, hands twisting nervously as she looked Ari in the eyes, trying to find the words to tell the young woman that she'd grown to love as a daughter that she was now fighting for her life, in a way that no one could ever have anticipated . . ._

_. . . "The theory that we've been working on, and nothing that we've found out so far seems to disprove it, is that it isn't you who is contagious, Ari," Draco picked up where Andra had left off. He stood up again, and walked back over to the wall, hands in his pockets. "_ We _are infecting_ you _, with our magic. It keeps building inside you as you absorb it, and it's damaging to you because_ nobody _is supposed to contain magic on that scale – your body can't take it, it's being worn down from the constant intake. Even the flare-ups were doing their share of damage, because the violence of the purging was hurting you physically."_

_He wiped a shaking hand down his face as he leaned his shoulder into the wall as if it was the only thing holding him up. "You screamed every time the power poured out of you – as if it was burning you alive from the inside as it rushed through you – and then the cycle just started over. The build-up of all that excess energy made you writhe and groan like you were being tortured, or poisoned – essentially, you were," . . ._

    Initially, she had apparently been taken to St. Mungo's, along with the other casualties of the battle – but it seemed that that was a grave mistake. Her magic was trying to heal her, but the injuries she had sustained had severely impacted on her magic – her power had become a siphon for magical energy, tapping into, and draining any source of magic that it could find. Once she had absorbed as much energy as her body could handle, it was released in the form of powerful magical outbursts, progressively growing stronger and more violent, until she had actually blown out the doors of the treatment room she was in. It had turned out to be a good thing, though, the only thing that could have saved the Healers that had been inside the room with her, unconscious and unable to call out for help as her magic drained theirs.

_. . . "We got lucky." Ari's head snapped up at that. "Magic can really be amazing, Ari, I think that you know that better than most people will ever truly appreciate. Even while your magic was building up, your body knew that it could not maintain those levels of power for long – it was the reason why your energy was flaring all the time – you were trying to 'bleed off' the excess. The problem – other than the fact that wild magic does tend to cause a fair bit of chaos and disruption – was that your power was STILL working as a siphon; it had not stopped absorbing energy. It only got stronger as time went on – and you were lying right in the middle of a great magical reservoir: St. Mungo's." . . ._

    When the doors were blown off, others outside were finally alerted to the problem, and had raced inside. Velena Polski, one of the Apprentice Healers, had managed to get the unconscious Healers out of the room with help from others who had rushed in, while Ari's fellow Enforcer, Uruk Goldtooth, was busy casting several suppression Wards throughout the room to try and contain her outbursts. They were the last two inside with Ari when he had finished, but as they went for the door Ari's magic surged again, pulling the doors back over the breach and sealing them all inside.

    Once the Spell holding the doors had unsealed itself without warning some time later, dropping them back down with a crash as people scrambled to get out of the way, everyone had been stunned to see that Uruk and Velena were fine as they fled from the room. Uruk was swift in putting the doors back up and locking them into place with the strongest Charms he knew, as he warned against anyone going back in there. Their survival, against all the odds, had sparked the theory that led to Ari's discreet entry into the Goblin Enclave for healing. Velena had described what happened in that room while they were trapped, when Ari's magic had tapped into theirs, she had absorbed it and then discharged it . . .  _and it had flowed straight back into them_. That had not been the case with the other Healers, because they were all human. Uruk Goldtooth was a Goblin, and Velena Polski was a pure-blooded Veela.

_. . . "When I said that WE were contagious to you, the people that I was referring to, was US." Draco gestured around the room. "_ Magical humans _. Whatever it is that's wrong with you, it seems like we only make it worse by feeding your wild energy with our magic, but we're not able to re-absorb it when you discharge, or 'bleed off', as Aunt Andra put it. Any other magical being, though," he sat forward, staring at her intensely through the wall, "_ They can _. At least, all the ones we've tested you with, so far. Whenever you release all that energy, it flows into them, you don't drain them completely – you can't – because it just cycles straight back into them._

_"Your magic draws in and then releases energy the way that it does, because your body is instinctively looking for a way to heal itself, tapping into any ambient source that it can find to try and fix you." He looked at her through the clear barrier. "Just like Aunt Andra said, magic is amazing." . . ._

    Arielle was devastated – she could not be around her family and friends without causing utter havoc – what about Teddy? The question had all of them in tears, even Kingsley had needed to wipe his eyes and clear his throat gruffly at her clear anguish. The others had left shortly after, giving Ari privacy as she tried to come to terms with her new reality, cut off from all that she loved.

    The next few days she had mostly slept or read quietly unless she had visitors – Kingsley had been there every day as they tried to piece together all that had happened during the attack. A lot of the information they had just didn't make any sense, not when it was compared to the other assaults in other places by Hydra-Kin.

_. . . "Every other attack was simple – get in there, make a whole lotta noise and scare the tourists, then get out once law enforcers showed up. Here, with four officers surrounding them, they suddenly decide to stick around and fight it out –_ to the death _." Kingsley's frustration was apparent as he scrubbed his hand over his face, rubbing at his forehead with his wide palm as though he could feel a headache building behind his eyes._

_"Wait . . . what?" Ari sat up straight. "All of them?"_

_"Surprised the hell out of us, too," Shacklebolt snorted. "The backup squad Apparated into Knockturn Alley, and as far as we can figure, it wasn't long after Mitchell got knocked out . . . they were alerted by your Patronus, then we found out that the Floos were – mysteriously – out of action . . . don't worry, we_ will _find out what the hell happened with all of that, the badges were blocked, just about everything that could be locked down to prevent them from getting to you in time had been tampered with. I'm surprised they missed the elevators."_

_"I'm not." Ari grinned coldly. "THAT would have been far too easy for us to backtrack. There is a very limited list of people who would have the access required to mess with the elevator systems – that was one of the things we worked on, after the war, what with Riddle's puppet government finding it so easy to take over the building and clamp down on people getting out and escaping from them."_

_"True." Kingsley bit his lip in thought. He waved his hand to dismiss that for now. "Moving on, Thomas saw most of what happened when you got hit – he said you suddenly fell into the street from where you were, like you might have stumbled or tripped, and as you were falling . . . the last lot of Hydras apparently decided that if they were going down, then they were gonna take you down with them. Once the backup Officers saw you falling, with those bastards tracking you, they acted to defend you – only it didn't work out the way they hoped – the Hydras had already cast at you . . . and they didn't miss. Thomas nailed one of the bastards, just after he fired at you, with a Stunner – that only made him easy prey for the lion, unfortunately – the other two were burnt alive by the salamander." Ari just looked at him in shock. "Right, you don't remember. I forgot about that." . . ._

    Ari had been relieved to hear that both Derek Mitchell and Paige Bryant were fine – Mitchell was apparently bitching heartily about being restricted to 'Light Duties' at the DMLE until he was medically cleared to go back to active service as a full Auror – and Bryant was recovering at home with her family.

_. . . "Kingsley, freeze it there!" she called through the barrier as Shacklebolt fiddled with the runes on the side of the Pensieve, managing to pause the recording as he looked over his shoulder at her._

_"There?" he queried, gesturing at the frozen scene projected above the basin – they had been reviewing memories from that day at Diagon Alley, piecing it all together a little bit at a time, memories from several people present within the Alley as the terrorists made their move . . ._

    Arielle had been shocked to realise that the Curse that struck Bryant hadn't come from any of the terrorists in the centre of the Alley – as far as anyone could tell, the Spell originated from one of the shops next to where Ari and Paige were taking cover. Another scene was apparently a favourite in the squad-room, Kingsley had told her, if only for the sheer stupidity it displayed on the part of these morons.

_. . . Both had shaken their heads as they viewed the record of the marble pillar being shattered in front of Gringott's, falling down on top of the unlucky thugs that hadn't managed to get out of the way. "Irony is a wonderful, yet terrifying, thing sometimes." Shacklebolt had shrugged dismissively. Arielle had known exactly what he meant. A rather nasty way to 'bite the dust' as it were, but they had rather brought it on themselves,_ literally _. It was unpleasant to witness, but neither of them were about to waste their sympathy on a bunch of murderous goons receiving a bit of 'rough justice', not when so many innocent people had been injured – some killed – during the battle._

_The particular scene that Ari had wanted him to pause, however, was from Dean Thomas' memory of that day, when he had seen Ari spin around in the middle of fighting off a band of the attackers to stare into a dark, shadowed corner of Knockturn Alley. The frozen image showed her standing there; face turned to the side with her right wand pointed straight towards whatever it was that she was staring at. With only her profile to go by, it was hard to make out her expression, but she appeared to be wary and confused by what she saw._

_Arielle stared unblinkingly at the projection until her eyes watered in protest, and shook her head. "Shack, I don't get it. I'm looking at this, and I still can't work it out. There I am, in the middle of a fight in Diagon Alley, trying to protect a fallen Auror and support the others, and then I just stop all of a sudden to peer randomly at an empty corner? There's nothing there, so what was I looking at?" . . ._

* * *

    A shrill, ringing sound jolted her out of her reverie, as Maarit yowled indignantly in shock at the noise and dug her claws into the tender flesh of Ari's belly. Ari indulged in some yowling of her own at the sudden pain of her familiar's needle-sharp little talons raking across her skin. "Maarit!" she squalled loudly, "GERROFF!" Maarit leapt into the tangle of bedding that had been flung away when Ari bolted up, before streaking over the side of the mattress and out of sight. Ari growled irritably, muttering under her breath about 'scaredy-cats and stupid, bloody alarm clocks' as she reached over to press the alarm off, jabbing the button with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

    The LED numbers read 6:45am. Ari's brow wrinkled in confusion until she remembered the date – September 7th. "Ugh!" her groan was prolonged and heartfelt as she threw herself facedown on the pillow and indulged herself in a brief tantrum, pounding the pillow with her fists on either side of her head . . . she didn't want to go to school! For the love of Nimue, she was 29 years old, even if she didn't look it! Why in the name of the gods had she ever agreed to this, to come all the way to Smalltown, USA, and pose as a high-school student? Oh right, she KNEW why, she just didn't particularly care at that moment because she felt like brooding on the unfairness of it all.

* * *

_The attack in Diagon Alley had been at least partially motivated by her presence there – they had suspected it from the beginning, based on Dean Thomas' statement of hearing . . . and seeing . . . one of the masked terrorists identify Arielle during the course of the fight, and urge his compatriots to concentrate their efforts on taking her down – and they had confirmation later, when Ari had finally recovered to the point that she was no longer having spontaneous outbursts. The Goblin Healers had been confident that she could be released from their care, as long as she avoided places where her condition would be aggravated by contact with magical humans – essentially, she was banished from the Wizarding World entirely._

_She had been transported via Goblin Portkey to Gringott's, and that was where it had all gone so tragically wrong. Somehow, the knowledge of her presence in the Bank had been leaked to Hydra-Kin, and they found themselves under attack. Though the invaders had been intent on their mission to capture, or kill, Arielle, they certainly hadn't hesitated in cutting down anyone who got in their way . . . several of the cadre of Goblin warriors who had acted to repel the attackers were severely injured, or killed outright, in the ensuing bloodbath. Arielle certainly hadn't been lying low during the conflict, fighting alongside the defenders with everything that she had._

_Her heart broke when she saw Joba struck down, followed by Gulan as the little female wailed in grief at her sister's death – the determined little Healers had refused to just send her away from the Enclave without seeing for themselves that she would be in a safe place for the period of her recovery. On seeing Joba fall, Gulan had been seized with a kind of madness – she snatched up a sword lying at the side of its fallen master and charged towards the raiders, screeching like a banshee as she swung the razor-edged blade with lethal intent. One thug had fallen, and she had another cowering against the wall with the sword at his throat, before she was hit in the back with a Dark Cutting Curse that had all but sliced her in half._

_The deadly potential of Arielle's condition had been fully realised in that moment – she had come to be very fond of the women during her time with them – as she howled in rage at seeing her friends murdered right in front of her. She was consumed with the need for vengeance,_ for justice _, as she strode out into the open from the cave wall she had taken shelter behind during the fight. Unafraid, she stalked towards the attackers as they rounded on her, raising their wands to cast. Her sudden outbreak of laughter gave them pause, as she sneered at them in loathing, the hysterical edge to her shrill chuckles unnerving them as she called out. "You wanted me? Well, here I am! What are you waiting for?" as they hesitated still, completely taken aback by her confident, unhalting advance, no wand in sight as she lifted her hands to them in a mockery of surrender. "Well?" she smiled coldly at them, baring her straight white teeth. "Shall we dance?"_

_One fellow, bolder than the others, had stepped forward to meet her challenge – and her smile took on a wicked curve as her eyes gleamed –_ perfect _. How she loved it when they snapped up the bait so easily – her move to come out in the open like this hadn't been the rash impulse that it may have seemed – she had considered her options with icy logic, and chosen her tactics carefully. She appeared to be unarmed, holding out her hands to show her lack of wand, treading towards them steadily as she kept them distracted and off-balance with her apparently casual disregard of their malicious intent toward her as she moved ever closer, trying to get in range. This idiot's step forward had placed him right where she wanted him – and now it began. She felt her magic stir, humming under her skin as it registered their power, craving the energy that it recognised as akin to its own. She had no control over the siphoning effect of her power – that was why it was so dangerous for her to be around other witches and wizards. The Goblin Healers had theorised that once her power started to channel outside energy it would not stop until it purged, and if the sources of energy were still within reach then the cycle would simply continue until the supply was either removed . . . or exhausted. She intended to test that theory._

_The apparent leader of this little band watched her cautiously as she cocked her head to the side and smirked at him. Those famous green eyes suddenly flared brightly, and he jumped back in shock as he felt something strange – it was as though his magic was being pulled away from him . . . but that wasn't possible, was it? He faltered suddenly, his legs weakening under him as he stumbled back, watching in horror as her eyes brightened further and her smirk widened. She watched him the way a kneazle would observe a wounded puffskein, ready to pounce. Gasping in horror, he fell to his knees even as he turned to order his fellows to retreat; this wasn't what they had planned._

_It was far too late – it was over from the moment he had stepped forward – once he got in range of her power and it drew his magic in, it had gathered strength to extend its reach towards the others in the group, affecting them as well. Some had already fallen to their knees, gasping for air as her magic swelled ever further. Others were crawling away, desperate to flee this unforeseen menace as they dragged themselves along the rough ground. Some made it out – others did not._

* * *

_Rrroaw?_  Maarit had re-emerged from under the bed now that the shrill beeping from the alarm had been silenced, propping her front paws on Ari's shoulder as she peered into her face inquiringly. "Alright, you mangy moggy, I'll feed you," Ari told her laughingly, giving her a fond scratch on the head between her long, furry ears as the half-grown kitten purred ecstatically, her golden eyes slitting in pleasure. Ari scooped her up as she hopped out of bed, running down the stairs to the ground floor of her new home and into the kitchen. Maarit hopped onto her shoulder, mewing in anticipation as her large eyes fixed on the cupboard where Ari stored her food and treats.

    "Patience, my love," Ari sing-songed teasingly as she opened the doors. "Well, Your Highness, what will it be today? Chicken with pasta Alfredo, or maybe salmon with lemon-and-herb dressing? Ooh, I know!" she plucked a sachet from the cupboard and waggled it enticingly under Maarit's twitching nose, as her whiskers quivered in anticipation. "Braised beef and spicy tomato!" Maarit gurgled in approval as she leapt off Ari's shoulder and raced over to her bowl, sitting there regally as though she was a haughty socialite waiting to be served her meal in a five-star restaurant. Ari chuckled richly as she retrieved the scissors from the second drawer, slitting the packet and easing the contents into the bowl. Maarit lost all presumed dignity then, as she plunked her face in the bowl, devouring her breakfast like a starved orphan.

    "Slow down, greedy guts," Ari called as she stuck her head in the refrigerator, searching for the fixings for her own morning meal. Alrighty, then; eggs, bacon, tomatoes, butter and milk. She carried her packages to the island, setting them down to fill the electric kettle and flick the switch. Frying pan on the stove, flame on, as she sliced tomatoes and removed the rind from the bacon. All her goodies were sizzling away when she heard a ripe belch from the floor where Maarit was still sitting over her bowl – the kneazle was staring at her, ears pricked, as she licked her lips. Ari snorted, she really had to work on nipping this particular bad habit in the bud! "Alright, don't panic, its coming," she said, pointing her finger admonishingly at the unrepentant kitten. "And if you ever burp like that again, I'm cutting you off for a week!" the long ears drooped in dismay as Maarit stared at her in horrified disbelief – surely she wouldn't be so cruel?

    Ari just wagged her finger sternly. "You heard me – a week," just then, the kettle cut off as the water boiled, and she quickly grabbed two mugs off the tree. She made coffee first – half milk (organic, full-cream), half hot water, three teaspoons of instant coffee (Turkish blend) and two tablespoons of honey (Red-gum, creamed). Walking over, she set it down by the eager kneazle as she wriggled happily, lapping at the warm concoction enthusiastically while Ari made a face. "Ewww!" she went back to the frypan, flipping everything over, before a quick raid on the bread-bin saw two slices of bread toasting away as she made herself her own favourite morning beverage: Earl Grey, two sugars, and a dash of milk. She didn't know how Maarit could enjoy coffee so much – she never touched the stuff!

    Buttering the toast once it popped, she loaded up the slices with her fried selections and sat down at the dining end of the island to eat. Once she finished, she loaded her dishes as well as Maarit's into the sink to wash later on –  _after school_  – her shoulders slumped in resignation. After almost a decade, she was returning to school with a bunch of angst-ridden, hormonal adolescents all over again. " _Oh . . . JOY_."

* * *

 

**Definitions**

Once Upon A September: amended from the song featured in the Disney version of  **Anastasia**  - Once Upon A December - I just found it to be really fitting for my character at that point in her old life.

Abbi (Arabic): my father  _informal_  daddy

Ummi (Arabic): my mother  _informal_ mummy

Marta (Scandinavian): a girl's name meaning 'pearl'. Eirikr, as her foster-brother turned brother-in-law, has known her ever since she was born and loved her as his little sister. I haven't revealed his background through this story yet, but he is of Viking origin, so he calls his little sister 'Marta', his precious pearl.

al-Gulawesi: the (mythical) town in Al-Andalus where Leandros and Zafira Thessalis lived, where their daughters, Ione and Ma`at, were born and raised.

Ma`at (Egyptian): According to mythology, Ma`at was the Egyptian goddess of truth, justice, and balance. Her feather is used in the ancient ceremonies of the dead when the hearts of the deceased are weighed in the underworld. If the heart is judged to be heavier than the feather, the person is deemed unworthy of entering paradise, and forever denied the chance of being reborn.

Khālah (Arabic): maternal aunt.

Sætrevatn (Norse): (literally)  _Sætr -_ sweet,  _vatn -_ water. Basically, I decided that I wanted to give pre-history Mystic Falls an actual name, so I figured I'd tip my hat to the Viking settlers like the Mikaelsons - and so 'Sweetwater' was born. It's not as crazy as it sounds, when I researched on the internet, I found a page that said the Viking explorer who founded Greenland, actually named it that because he was trying to encourage others to brave the Atlantic crossing to settle there.  _Who knew?_

Maarit (Scandinavian): another variation of Marta, also meaning 'pearl'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: Thoughts? Good, bad, or ugly?  
> I can tell you that there are about 5 versions of this chapter sitting on my hard drive, it was so hard to work out what I wanted to write for this one. Finally I worked out what my issue was - all of the previous ideas were still set back in England, dealing with the aftermath of the attack and what was going on with Arielle . . . I thought about it and said no . . . just . . . no. I desperately wanted to move the story along, and get into the Vampire Diaries aspect finally, but those chapters haven't gone completely to waste - parts have been spliced throughout this, as flashbacks, to explain bits and pieces of why Ari is here now, and little sneak-peeks of what she has been through back in Britain before arriving in Mystic Falls. Hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 7: 17 Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arielle goes back to school - as a JUNIOR!!! What will she get up to? Read on and find out . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See first chapter.
> 
> A/N: Whoa! Monster chapter - just under 14,000 words without all the extras.

Chapter 7: 17 Again

7 th September 2009

Mystic Falls

    A few heads turned in the parking lot as the throbbing bass hit their ears, and the word spread quickly throughout the scattered bunches of early arrivals: check this out! People were craning their heads in intrigue as the glossy, luxury roadster slipped past in search of a parking space, the long, low hood with the unmistakable trident logo identifying it as Maserati. Spying an empty spot, the driver was quick to stake a claim, wheels spinning smoothly inward as the convertible rolled into place.

    The students were still watching in awe, WHO was this? Cars like that generally belonged to members of the founding families and even then, none of those elite would ever consider allowing a teenager to drive one to school! Excited whispers went through the crowd as the engine was shut down, the music cutting off as the driver ran her hand through her long, wind-tousled blonde curls and bent over the passenger's side seat.

    Buds set firmly in with Evanescence blasting in her ears and I-Pod in her pocket; she blew out her breath firmly and shouldered her bag – Showtime! Swinging the door open, she slid out gracefully and started making her way to the doors. Keys in hand, she clicked the remote to close the top . . . she'd never been so grateful before for the invention of sunglasses, rolling her eyes behind the reflective shades at the reaction from the gawking crowd as the soft-cover rose over the opening – gasps, barely stifled squeaks of excitement, and mumbles of envy and awe. Honestly, you'd think they had never seen a car before!

    She strode through the onlookers, polite smile pinned firmly to her lips as she went for the main entrance. No one approached, perhaps preferring to gawk from a distance . . . for now. It was strange – even those that would be the first in line to introduce themselves to anyone new, hung back and seemed content to observe with narrowed eyes as she walked by – she projected an aura of confidence, serenely aloof with her eyes hidden behind mirrored lenses and a cool smile curling the edges of her lips . . . it all said, 'I'm fine, thanks. I know what I want and I know exactly how to get it.'

    The whispering was quiet, but intense, until the doors closed behind her as she strolled inside – and then it was as if the storm broke, people moving between different groups as they chattered and giggled madly, trying to work out who the fascinating, yet somehow intimidating, new arrival was. How mysterious . . .

* * *

    Jeremy Gilbert stormed out of the toilets, cursing under his breath as he ran his hand through his hair in sheer aggravation . . . damn his sister! Who did she think she was? She 'gave him a summer's pass'? Yeah, and the fact that she'd had her nose stuck in her journal the whole time as she scribbled away, barely taking her eyes off the pages long enough to notice anyone else's suffering and misery had  _absolutely nothing_  to do with it! Still seething, he turned the corner to walk to class . . . walk out the doors to 'The Pit' . . . basically, he wanted to go somewhere – anywhere – that his sister was guaranteed NOT to be, right now. He stopped short as he saw her, the tawny blonde head bent over a sheet of paper in her hands as she studied it with a bewildered frown on her face, before casting her eyes around the hallway with her frown deepening. She appeared to be paying attention to the signs and room numbers indicated throughout the corridor, and it didn't look like she was having much luck finding whatever it was that she was after, as she looked back down at the paper, holding it out straight in front of her and squinting at it sceptically.

    Jeremy had heard the gossip as it made its rounds through the school concerning the new arrival – and her bad-ass car – but hadn't paid too much attention; he was more concerned with managing to relax himself enough to get through the school day . . . with the assistance of certain pharmaceutical substances. Watching Vicki with Tyler 'Tool' Lockwood had required a couple of extra hits to stay chill, what a downer!

    His distracted gaze cleared as he came back to the present, watching as she looked around once more before she sighed in apparent frustration, shoulders slumping slightly. He debated with himself for a moment about getting involved and then snorted at himself – why not? Anything to take his mind off all the crap other people seemed to want to pile on his shoulders. Walking over, he stopped a couple of feet away and put his hands in his pockets as he studied her. He could see what all of the fuss was about – she was gorgeous: tall, only a couple of inches shorter than he was after his massive growth spurt over the summer; lean and sleek with smooth, pale olive skin and that long, tumbling mass of curls that seemed to hold every possible shade of blonde; and, as she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye and snapped her gaze to his, eyes of a strange golden hue, clear and focussed.

    He smiled slightly at her, taking his hand out of his pocket to point at the page she was holding. "Having trouble finding your way?"

    She just stared at him for a moment, assessing him silently with those piercing eyes, before their hawklike intensity softened fractionally and a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. She looked back down at the sheet in disgust and rolled her shoulders. "It's THAT obvious, is it?"

    Jeremy grinned at her, appreciating the dry humour evident in her accented tones as her eyebrow arched. He held out his hand, thumb and forefinger fractionally apart. "Just a little." He walked to her, holding out his hand in silent offer. She gave the page to him and crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrow still arched as she smirked wider, a wordless challenge to see what he would make of it. He wiggled his eyebrows at her mockingly, watching her eyes roll in amusement before he looked at the paper – as he expected, it was a map used for orientation for all new students; however, it was the map of Mystic Falls High from five years ago, before they completely overhauled the place, adding two new wings and switching all the rooms and offices around. Saying as much, he saw her throw her hands up in the air in disbelief.

    "And what, pray tell, is the point of giving me a map of this school from FIVE YEARS ago, then?" Her hands were sitting on her hips now as she glared at him. He held up his hands defensively as he fought the urge to laugh – she was so _cute_  when she was mad – based on the evil eye she was giving him, he didn't think it would be appreciated.

    "I wouldn't know. What I DO know is-" he shook his head in bafflement, staring down at the page, "-That you never should have gotten it in the first place. All of these . . ." pointing at it with his free hand, ". . . Would be kept separately in the office from all of the current records, so . . ." he arched his eyebrows expressively as he trailed off.

    ". . . So how did I end up with it, then?" she shrugged at him. "I gave the secretary my paperwork; she checked everything out and said it was fine. Some guy walked in while I was there so we had to finish up quickly, she handed over my timetable, the map, my locker number and the code, and wished me luck on my first day."

    Jeremy eyed her for a moment. "Was it Tanner?"

    Her eyes widened at him. "I . . . I don't know who that is," she laughed a little as she shook her head. He smacked his head with his palm, feeling like an idiot.

    "Of course, you don't – 'cause you're new here – well, you might be in for a rude shock when you DO get to know who's who, around here," he rolled his eyes at her humorously and smirked. "Tanner is the History Teacher, Football Coach, and all-around douche-bag.

    "Brown hair, brown eyes, and a smirk that makes you want to tear his face off every time you see him."

    Her eyes narrowed slightly and her mouth puckered in distaste. "Oh yeah, Captain Caveman-" her hand slapped over her mouth in shock, as she peered at his suddenly impassive face. "Did I just say that out loud?" voice slightly muffled behind her hand, she watched as he stared at the ceiling for a moment, throat working slightly as he composed himself and gazed back at her calmly.

    "Sorry, did you say something?" he asked, arching his brows enquiringly, only the mirthful gleam in his dark eyes betraying his enjoyment of her unintended outburst. She took her hand away from her face as she stared at him, before she grinned companionably at him and stuck out her hand.

    "You know, I have this feeling that you and I are going to get along," they shook hands solemnly. "I'm Arianna Parrish, call me Ari, recent export from the British Isles if the accent didn't give me away," she introduced herself cheerfully.

    "Jeremy Gilbert, freshman, and lifelong resident of Mystic Falls – if the accent didn't give me away," he finished with a cheeky smile. "Come on . . ." he waved at her to follow him as he walked back to the corner, peering around it at the office, it looked empty from where he was standing. "All the staff are having their first meeting, AKA coffee and smoke break, before classes start," he looked over his shoulder as she cocked her head curiously, "So the office is free for us to take a look for that map," he finished as she grinned. They walked around the corner and peered into the office, no one was inside. Jeremy hopped over the counter and swivelled to face Ari, propping his hands on the desk. "Now, where . . . where?" he tapped his fingers as he contemplated the drawers.

    "Are the drawers labelled?" Ari enquired softly, squinting at the filing cabinet behind him to check if they were marked. He bent down to check.

    "Yeah. Orientation, right down the bottom," he called as he crouched to open the drawer and dig through.

    "Well, that's definitely not where she got the map she gave to me from, this one was from the files behind you," Ari shook her head as he looked up at her, shrugging his shoulders sympathetically.

    "Jer?" The voice shocked them both, Jeremy jumped up swiftly only to whack his head on the desk as he came up. He winced and squawked in pain and surprise as he rubbed at the sore spot, scowling heavily at the new arrival. He switched his glare to Ari, who had spun around to stare in shock at the newcomer with her hand pressed over her heart.

    "Smooth, Parrish. Nice job keeping watch," she spun to glare back at him as he scolded her, still grimacing in discomfort.

    "Oh, I'm sorry,  _Gilbert_ ," The sarcasm was thick. "Was I looking at the door?"

    Jeremy snorted, and narrowed his eyes on the intruder. "Bennett," he nodded his head as she cringed in sympathy for his pain.

    "Sorry . . . I thought it was you – recognised the hair before you hid yourself under the desk," she grinned at him, wandering over to the desk and reaching out a hand to ruffle his hair playfully as he ducked away with a mock-scowl.

    "Not the hair, Bennett!" he whined, patting his spiky locks back into place carefully, as they both laughed at him. Girls! They spent hours in front of the mirror getting their hair perfect and moaning about anything that might ruin it – yet they had absolutely no respect for a guy's need to maintain his style – he groused inwardly as he sneered back at them, tousling his hair back the way he wanted it. He pointed his finger warningly at Bonnie as she reached towards him again, with her fingers crooked and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Come on, Bennett, at least make an effort to be civilised in front of the new girl," waving his hand at Ari as she giggled at their banter. Bonnie pointed her finger back at him teasingly, her eyes promising a rematch at a later stage, as she turned to Ari and held out her hand politely.

    "So, you're the new girl they're all screaming about. Nice car, by the way," was her opening remark as Ari shook hands with her.

    Jeremy rolled his eyes. So much for sympathy! He jumped back over the counter to stand beside Bonnie as he pointed from one to the other, "Ari, this is Bonnie Bennett. Bonnie is my sister's best friend since . . . like . . .  _birth_. Bennett, this is Arianna Parrish," he leaned towards Bonnie conspiratorially as people passed by out in the hall, glancing in at them curiously. "Ari, here, got the 'Tanner Treatment' . . . from Mrs. Clarke." Bonnie gaped at him a little, before screwing up her face in disgust.

    "Ew!" The school secretary, Mrs. Clarke, had a not-so-secret crush on the much-despised History professor that all of the students had known about for years – and most of the faculty probably had a good idea as well. Jeremy handed over the false map, watching as she scanned it and huffed in dismay. "I don't even know why they bothered to keep these things in the first place! All the records are down in City Hall, anyway," Bonnie waved the sheet in exasperation, and then tore it to bits in contempt. She looked to Ari sympathetically, "I'll bet he  _smiled_  at you, huh?"

    Ari just shuddered in disgust at the memory of the smarmy grin she had received from the man – for Pete's sake, he looked like a Neanderthal! " _Ugh_! He reminded me of some of the guys I knew back in school – in England," she hastened to say as they looked at her in confusion, "I went to a boarding school before, and some of the kids were from . . .  _old_  . . . families, y'know – peerage types, really exclusive, snobby and way-too-proud of their  _esteemed_   lineage," she explained, rolling her eyes. "They used to make life hell for the scholarship kids who made it there on pure talent and hard work, instead of who their mummy and daddy were." Jeremy shook his head.

    "Yeah, Tanner definitely has that 'I'm better than everyone else' vibe going, so watch out if you have History with him – he makes everybody feel like assholes when they don't get it right. Actually, he makes you feel like an asshole  _and a know-it-all_   if you do get it right, so you can't win with this guy."

    Bonnie hopped over the desk as Jeremy and Ari kept their eyes out. "Bennett?" Ari said suddenly, "Bonnie Bennett? You're Sheila's granddaughter," she realised, smiling at Bonnie as she popped her head up from the files she was digging through to glance at her.

    "Yeah. She's my Grams." She broke off to sneeze suddenly; didn't this place ever get dusted? Sniffing a little, she stared at Ari through slightly watery eyes, "Why? Do you know her?"

    "We've met. She was there at my house the day that all the ladies from the, um, Founding _Council_ , or  _Society_ , or something came over to welcome me to town." Ari huffed out a laugh. "I was a bit stunned; I didn't really expect anything, so when they knocked on the door I was completely unprepared. Everyone was really nice, though, and Sheila actually stayed a little longer after everyone left, she told me that she had a granddaughter around my age named Bonnie," she nodded with a smile as Bonnie grinned at her.

    "Grams is awesome, I know. Be careful, though, sometimes she talks a bit strange about, like, magic and witchcraft and stuff – but she teaches Occult Studies over at Whitmore College, so don't freak out," Bonnie explained as she continued rooting around in the drawer – she knew the maps were in there, somewhere!

    "That wouldn't freak me out," Ari stared at her hand where she'd placed it on the counter, her voice quiet and serious. "I don't see it as a bad thing to hope for a little magic in the world, it seems like it needs it, sometimes." Bonnie smiled up at her gratefully, she loved her Grams – she really did – but there were always those moments where Sheila seemed to live in a different world to everyone else, and Bonnie hated it when people looked down on her grandmother because of it. She let out a soft 'Ha!' of triumph as she waved the sheet bearing the updated map of the school, shifting to her knees in preparation to stand up.

    Bonnie never got the chance to get to her feet as another voice interrupted angrily. "JEREMY! What the hell? Between the bathroom and now, you managed to get yourself in trouble?" Jeremy groaned in disgust at his sister's shrill, judgmental tones as she stormed inside the office, jabbing her finger accusingly at him. Bonnie froze in horror, 'Nice going, Elena! Way to show your brother that you're supporting him in his grief,' she thought in annoyance as she knelt on the floor. Ari watched coolly as Jeremy's chin set hard and he glared at the newcomer defiantly, crossing his arms over his chest and remaining silent, flatly refusing to justify his presence in here. Elena's eyes switched to her and she strode over to stand in front of her, looking her up and down in silent condemnation – or maybe not so silent. "Are you his new dealer? Is that how you can afford that car, by pushing pills to teenagers?" she asked in saccharine tones, smiling coldly at Ari, who simply tilted her head to the side and regarded her dispassionately. "Well, I don't really care about that . . ." she laid her hand on Ari's arm warningly, digging her fingers in as the other girl's eyes snapped down to look at her hand, ". . . But you better stay away from my brother, or-" Elena inhaled sharply as Ari's eyes flicked back to hers, the amber orbs flat and cold as she stared her down.

    "ELENA!" Bonnie and Jeremy yelled together in disbelief – the former had come out of her shock, and popped up from behind the desk to stare at her best friend reproachfully. Elena's jaw slackened as she stared at Bonnie, trying to work out what was going on – Jeremy being in trouble she could understand, but Bonnie? Bonnie had been with her the whole morning! "What is wrong with you?" Bonnie's hands were on her hips as she glared at her, she knew Elena was having issues, but this? She'd gone way too far, and given the way Ari was looking at Elena, Bonnie frantically tried to think of a way to ease the tension in the air. "Nobody is in trouble, Elena," she began, spreading her hands in a calming gesture. "We're just here to find-"

    "Do you owe her any explanations, Bennett?" Everyone winced as Ari's voice rang out calmly – too calmly, Jeremy decided, as he eyed her warily. Her eyes were focussed unwaveringly on Elena's rapidly paling face, her dark eyes stricken as she realised just how badly she'd erred. Ari's face looked as if it could have been carved from granite, still and hard, with her eyes burning into Elena's fiercely. Jeremy looked at Ari, her eyes fixed on his sister with icy intent, posture deceptively relaxed as he could see her muscles coiling under the skin, poised and ready. He rather imagined that this was how a snake must appear – right before it struck. He shook his head and watched the two in front of him cautiously as Ari spoke quietly and clearly, "Because I certainly don't." She smiled, and it felt like the temperature of the room dropped to freezing. That smile was sharp enough to cut diamond, Bonnie thought as she and Jeremy exchanged glances over the counter. "I don't owe her anything," Ari continued as her smile brightened dazzlingly, displaying her white teeth, and raised her arm into the air with Elena's hand still wrapped around it limply. "Unless, of course, I owe you something for laying your hands on me without my permission." The warning was clear – move it, or lose it. Elena snatched her hand away as if she had been burned, mouth opening and closing dumbly as she searched for words.

    Ari turned her back deliberately, dismissing her entirely as her eyes softened at Jeremy and her smile warmed. "It was nice to meet you, Jeremy Gilbert," she patted his shoulder. "And you, too, Bonnie Bennett," smiling at Bonnie gently as the still-stunned girl tried to smile back. "But, I think I'd better go," Bonnie handed over the map as Ari held out her hand, picking up her bag as she tilted her head to Jeremy in farewell and went for the door. "I'll see you around."

    "Oh, no!" Jeremy came rushing up behind her as she exited. "You're kind of my Goddess right now, after telling my sister off that way . . ."

    ". . . THAT was your  _sister_?"

    "Elena Gilbert, in the flesh,  _ta-da_." Jeremy waggled his hands in the air mockingly as she stared at him in disbelief. They continued walking down the corridor until the first part of his statement sank in, and she stopped dead.

    " _Goddess_?"

    He sniggered as she eyed him beadily. "Well, yeah. I mean, there you were, all dark and vengeful and kick-ass," she snorted derisively as he continued, "And the funniest part was, you barely even said anything to her," he threw his head back and laughed as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Just like that," he pointed at her, "It was all about the attitude, and you were totally bad-ass in there," jerking his thumb back towards the office as she rolled her eyes and started walking again, while he trailed after her. "It was all . . . pathetic mortal, how dare you touch me?"

    "Has anyone ever told you that you have a pretty wild imagination, Gilbert?" Ari laughed as she turned to look at him, walking backwards as they smirked at each other. He nodded, grinning madly, as she snorted with laughter. He winced suddenly, and opened his mouth to warn her – too late. Ari squawked as she went down in a tangle of limbs with the girl she'd bumped into, the other grunting as they landed in a heap. Jeremy burst out laughing, as Ari scrambled up in a mad flurry, apologising even as she struggled to stand. Scraping her hair out of her face, she spared the cackling Jeremy a malicious glare, before turning back to the other girl, still sprawled gracelessly on the floor, and holding out her hand with an apologetic grin. "I'm so sorry! Here," gripping the girl's hand, and pulling her up quickly. "My bad. I didn't see you there, 'cause I was keeping my eye on this one," pointing at Jeremy, still doubled over as he whooped gleefully. The copper-headed girl smiled at her.

    "Yeah, you should definitely keep your eye on him," Ari watched as he straightened up suddenly, sobering quickly as he looked at the other girl, who smirked at him teasingly. "He's real sneaky," she winked at him as he pouted playfully, walking over to them.

    "Hey, Vick," he greeted as he slung his arm over Ari's shoulder, looking her up and down for any marks from the tumble. "You good?" he asked Ari, as she wrinkled her nose and nodded.

    "Just embarrassed. It's not like I ever learned to walk, or anything," she rolled her eyes as Vicki and Jeremy chuckled.

"Vicki, this is Ari," Jeremy introduced them, still laughing. "Don't worry, I'm sure she won't knock you flying once she gets to know you," Ari pinched his side, as he gasped and twisted away, wagging his finger at her. "No need to get violent, Parrish. Anyhow," he waved his hand towards Vicki, "This is Vicki Donovan, a friend." Ari and Vicki smiled at each other and Vicki waved a little.

    "You're the new girl all the boys are crying in their beer about."

    "Am I?"

"Oh, yeah," Vicki giggled as she waved her hand at the people walking around them, most glancing curiously at Ari as they passed by. "I know Tyler-" Ari caught Jeremy's slight scowl at the name from the corner of her eye, "-Didn't know whether to be all excited about 'fresh meat'," crooking her fingers in quotation marks, as Ari and Jeremy both made faces in disgust. "Or to be jealous of your car. Both, I think," she finished as Ari just smirked and looked at her fingernails.

    "Ah, boys! It's all about the engine," Ari said smugly, while Vicki and Jeremy nearly choked with laughter. "Oh, god!" she exclaimed, staring at her watch. "I think we're gonna be late, if we don't go now," tapping the time, as Jeremy whipped out his phone and cringed a little – 8:55am. Even as he saw it on the screen, the five-minute bell rang, and Ari groaned. "Damn! This is why I came so early, so I could pick up the map and figure out where the hell I was going!" she groused irritably. "Stupid secretary!"

    Jeremy shook his head as Vicki frowned in confusion. He snapped his fingers briskly, "Timetable. What's your first class?" as Ari handed over the sheet. "History – with Tanner! Oh, lucky you!" he waved them on as he muttered the last, Ari gagging slightly in revulsion. "Let's go."

    "Jer?" Vicki's brow was still wrinkled as she walked with them, completely out of the loop.

    "Mrs. Clarke screwed her over with the wrong chart, because Tanner gave her the eye when he came in," Jeremy told her as she shuddered in disgust. Ari just shook her head – wasn't it a sad state of affairs when no one even appeared to be shocked at the idea of a staff-member behaving so unprofessionally, purely out of jealousy? "We're not too far away, anyhow," Jeremy called over his shoulder, while Vicki and Ari trailed after him. "Just down here, next corridor on the left and about halfway down, I think."

    Vicki rolled her eyes a little at his back as he scowled at the timetable he held, frowning as he looked up at the signs posted in the hallway. "Anyone would think you've never been here before, Gilbert," she cooed mockingly, sniggering as he flipped her the bird without even looking at her. "Anyway," she turned to Ari as they continued to walk through the halls, "Seeing as you're new, you probably won't have heard about the party at the Falls tomorrow night." Watching as Ari's head shook in the negative, her grin brightened, "Oh yeah! It's a tradition 'round here, every year when school starts back, we all head out to the Falls and party all night. You should come, get to know everyone," she pouted a little as Ari pursed her lips, looking undecided.

    "Aw, come on, Parrish!" Jeremy interjected as he grinned over his shoulder at them. He turned and walked backwards, placing his hand over his heart and grinning at her. "I solemnly swear that I, Jeremy Gilbert, will be there to protect you from El-" he broke off as her eyes glared at him, before rolling sideways to indicate Vicki. He gulped a little and cursed himself – moron! He didn't want word of what went down in that office to spread around any more than Ari or the others did . . . and yet, there he went, babbling away at the first opportunity . . . maybe he should lay off the weed for a while, it made him a little too talkative. Seeing Vicki's eyes narrow in confusion, his mind raced for a plausible way to cover his blunder. "-From all those drooling morons who will be salivating over your car," he finished, grimacing a little as Vicki's expression told him that she wasn't totally convinced. "Which I haven't even seen yet, so I'm calling totally unfair on that," Ari grinned at his pleading expression, complete with clasped hands under his chin, and puppy-dog eyes.

    "You never know, Gilbert, if you play your cards right . . ." she trailed off suggestively, smirking as he perked up dramatically. They all laughed as they continued down the corridor, chatting idly as they went.

* * *

    Bonnie was not a happy camper as she plonked herself in her chair for History; and that, right there, was one good reason for her mood to be sour – seriously, what twisted, sadistic mind thought it would be a great idea for juniors to have a History  _double_  first thing on a Monday! Plus, she was still majorly pissed with Elena's attitude. She had been less than impressed with the way her friend had flown off the handle this morning, to accuse someone that she's never even met before of being some kind of pill-pusher, just because she was there beside Jeremy? Elena might tell everyone that she was fine, and most of them would believe her, simply because they wanted to believe that she was okay after losing her parents the way that she had, but Bonnie knew better. She hadn't missed the way that Caroline had glanced at her meaningfully over her shoulder this morning while she was walking away from them, with Elena's back to her – for all that Caroline could be self-absorbed and superficial at the best of times - she wasn't fooled by Elena's facade, either.

    The hot new guy walked into the room then, his eyes instantly drawn to Elena as she stared off into the distance, completely oblivious. Bonnie rolled her eyes inwardly . . . typical! She glared fiercely at her preoccupied friend's back, hoping that at least a part of her daydream was about the scathing lecture Bonnie had heaped on her head after Jeremy had stormed out of the office after Arianna Parrish, and she didn't regret it, either. Elena had needed to hear it. Bonnie's pale green eyes flicked over at the new guy as he sat down, two rows over from, and just behind, Elena, eyes still flicking sideways glances at her as he settled in. She cringed slightly as she remembered a little wrinkle, she turned her head ever so slightly to glance behind her discreetly – yep, there was Matt, and he was not amused by the show of interest in the girl he clearly still considered to be HIS girl.

    Mr. Tanner walked in, and Bonnie could all but feel the mood in the room plummet even further, as nearly everyone slumped in their seats in depression . . . yep, Tanner had a reputation for a reason. Her ear pricked up as she heard a voice out in the corridor that seemed familiar, calling out to someone in apparent farewell as they came closer to the door. Eyes widening as she saw the tawny head appear in the glass, face turned away as she waved to someone in the distance. Bonnie whistled soundlessly –  _this oughta be good_.

    Ari waved Vicki and Jeremy off as he called back to say that he'd be there to take her to her next class, rolling her eyes a little. He'd be there, IF he could drag himself away from the 'Stoner Pit' as they named it, ever-so-creatively. She shrugged her shoulders, it was none of her business at the end of the day what anyone else chose to do . . . and they didn't appear to be harming anyone. She slid the door open and walked in, looking to the front of the room – big mistake. Meeting the oily grin that appeared on the teacher's face once he caught sight of her, she could feel her stomach churn in revulsion as he pointed her out to the rest of the class, like they couldn't see her standing there. "Class, we have a new student. This is Miss Arianna Parrish, recently emigrated from Great Britain. Miss Parrish," he turned to her, still with that ingratiating smirk curling his lips, "Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself."

    Her responding smile barely quirked the sides of her mouth, and had absolutely nothing to do with humour as she eyed him consideringly. She'd barely opened her mouth to speak, and she closed it abruptly, when the bell rang to signal the start of class. Waiting patiently until it shut off, she raised a finger to him, smiled coolly, and said, "Please hold that thought." She opened the door and stepped back into the corridor to peer down. Thankfully, Jeremy and Vicki were still there, just about to turn the corner. "Gilbert and Donovan!" she half-bellowed, waving her hand as Vicki's head swivelled in bemusement. She poked Jeremy in the side to get his attention, and pointed over her shoulder as he turned in query. Ari screwed up her face slightly, replaying her words in her head. "And that sounds like a really bad stage act," she called, grinning ruefully as she looked back into the room, her eyes narrowing fractionally as she met the deep-brown orbs of  _Elena_  Gilbert. Turning away pointedly, she fixed her attention back on Jeremy as he strode back in her direction, Vicki trailing behind. "If we're gonna spend time together, I definitely CANNOT go around calling for 'Gilbert and Donovan' all the time. You need a nickname-" putting her hand on her chin as she pondered, snapping her fingers as it hit her, "-Spike!" she grinned at him as he snorted in disbelief.

    "And this is why you called me back, over a nickname!" he shook his head sadly while Vicki cracked up behind him.

    "Tch! Noooo!" Ari waved her hand in dismissal as she rolled her eyes. "I wanted to tell you . . ." he cocked his head inquisitively, ". . . That party tomorrow night?" he nodded his head and smirked at her. "Yeah, I'll be there. By then," she rolled her eyes heavenward, "I will definitely need it." Vicki cheered a little and clapped her hands. "So, you'll be able to see me coming – me and my car – because I'll be there . . . with bells on!" she finished, grinning as Jeremy did a little fist pump of success. She waggled her fingers at them mockingly as she turned to go back in.

    "Wait!" she paused as Vicki called, looking at her curiously. Vicki waved her hands in the air indignantly, "I don't have a nickname yet!" Ari bit her bottom lip as she thought, frowning a bit.

    She looked over to Vicki and shook her head. "Gimme a little while," she pointed to her head. "Don't worry, it'll come to me," she peered back into the classroom; everyone was gaping at her – great. She pulled a face at Jeremy and Vicki. "I better go, the natives are getting restless," jerking her shoulder back at the room. Vicki sniggered as they all called goodbye for the second time and turned back to their respective destinations – Ari was slightly wistful as she watched them go, if she didn't feel the need to make a good impression, at least for the first day of school, she might have joined them. Reluctantly, she went back in to face the music. At least Captain Caveman wasn't smirking anymore, she thought idly, more like scowling heavily.

    Upon seeing that his dark glare had no effect, as she stared back at him calmly, he decided to fall back on his tried-and-true method of the ultimate intimidation . . . sarcastic condescension. "I'm so sorry, Miss Parrish," he cooed sweetly, watching out of the corner of his eye in satisfaction as the rest of the class cringed in expectation, "That an unimportant thing like school had to interrupt your budding social life here in our little town." His eyes tightened in frustration as she just watched him, amber eyes bright and clear, as a taunting smile curled her lips.

    "It's alright, sir. I'm sorry, too, that the  _incredible_  story of my life had to be interrupted by the sound of the bell that tells us its time for class, rather than my autobiography," she clapped her hands together decisively, and bent to pick up her bag that she had dropped when she stepped outside to call for Jeremy. Sweeping her eyes over the room, she spied an empty desk roughly in the middle of the room. Jerking her thumb at it, she turned to Tanner. "So as not to hold you up on what I am sure will be a  _fascinating_  lesson, I'll just sit down over there," and she went, grinning inwardly as the other students sucked in their breath sharply at her audacity, a ripple of scattered chuckles breaking out as a few of the bolder students gleefully celebrated their much-despised teacher's mortification. Tanner sneered at her back, he was half-tempted to order her into detention, but other than the fact that she had technically left the room without permission after the bell rang, she hadn't really done anything wrong.

    Stefan Salvatore closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead, as he contemplated the possibility of not breathing for the entire period of being in this room . . . with  _her_. This was the scent that he'd picked up on in the office earlier, not nearly so clearly, but it was her – it had to be. It had taken everything he had to stand there in that office, seemingly composed, when every instinct he possessed had urged him to race out of that room and hunt down the source of that intriguing smell.

    He swallowed thickly as she passed by him, two rows away . . . not that it made any difference to someone like him. Vampires were blood-hunters, evolved to track it unrelentingly – and this girl smelt like no other, mouth-watering and powerful. His eyes flicked over to her as she settled herself at the desk she'd indicated to the teacher, only to find her unblinking regard focussed squarely back at him. He flinched slightly at the cold, measuring gleam in her golden eyes as she watched him evenly. His mind raced frantically – did she  _know_? How? Would she tell anyone?

    Some of his panicked thoughts must have shown on his face, and her head tilted slightly, her eyes warming just a fraction, enough for him to feel less like a rabbit confronted by a hawk. She opened a binder and pulled out a sheet of paper, inclining her head at his desk meaningfully. He looked down in puzzlement, seeing only the blank sheet he'd placed there for taking notes. His eyes widened in wonder as the sheet glowed faintly – it was so subtle, he doubted anyone without enhanced vision like his would have noticed – then blue ink appeared, forming letters and words as he watched in fascination. The writing was clear and elegant, flowing over the page. ' **Relax,** **old** **boy, I'm not a snitch** ,' his head swivelled as he stared back at her, as enchanted and mystified as a little boy at Christmas. How could she do this, he wondered, as she widened her eyes at him reproachfully, still writing, and nodded her head at his desk again. Looking back, he saw that her writing had come through on his paper once more – ' **And will you stop being so obvious about it, please?** ' he grinned sheepishly at that. ' **You're jumpier than a bear digging around in someone else's beehive!** ' he had to stop reading for a moment, as he rubbed his hand down his face to wipe away the smile. Thinking for a moment, he picked up his pen and held it up just over his shoulder as he turned his head just enough to see her in his peripheral vision. He waggled the pen in query, and watched as she nodded subtly.

    Turning back to the page, he quickly wrote under her words, ' **Can you blame me for being nervous? How do I know that I can trust you?** '

    Her reply was swift. ' **How do I know that** _ **I**_ **can trust** _ **you**_ **?** ' his brow quirked as he silently acknowledged her point – knowing what he was meant that she understood what he could be capable of, and yet, she had already told him that she wasn't about to start telling tales out of school – so to speak.

    He wrote on the page, ' **I think that we both know we need to talk about this . . .** ' leaving the periods there in invitation.

    ' **Come by my house after school . . .** ' was her prompt response, the periods were dotted on ever-so-slowly afterwards, the sarcasm all but oozing from the paper as they appeared. He smirked slightly.

    ' **I don't know where you live . . .** '

    ' **It's a small town. I could be really mean and tell you to ask the first person that you see . . . but I won't. 2121 Maple Street. DO NOT annoy my cat – it might be the last thing you ever do. ;D** ' the cheeky smile on the quickly scribbled face had him grinning back at it.

    ' **I'll be there. And I would never think of being mean to a killer cat.** ' They had to stop there as the unwelcome voice and presence of Tanner broke in, looming over his desk. "And what is this?" Stefan winced in horror –  _busted_. He caught her subtle signal over his shoulder and looked back at the page.

    ' **Trust me. Turn the page over to the blank side and stare at it for a moment like you've never seen it before in your life, then slowly turn it back over and hand it to him, tell him it's your notes from class. TRUST ME!** ' He wasn't sure just how she was going to pull their bacon out of the frying-pan on this one, but what the hell? It wasn't as if he had anything in the bag to save them from this, other than compulsion – which was problematic, seeing as they were in a crowded classroom . . . and his diet really did hinder his abilities. He did as instructed, watching from the very edge of his vision as she swiftly swept her hand over the page next to the one she'd been writing to him on, and then placed her finger on a particular point on the page with their correspondence and whispered something under her breath. Even with his hearing, he couldn't quite make it out, so he just sat back and hoped for the best, handing the paper to Mr. Tanner.

    "As far as I can tell, sir, these are my notes." Tanner glared blackly at the page, apparently finding no fault, before he thrust them back at Stefan disdainfully, stalking back up to the front of the class, obviously in a foul mood at not being able to catch someone out of line. Stefan glanced down at the sheet, scanning through. It was all there, the entire lecture from Tanner . . . it was even in his own handwriting! He shook his head in amazement . . . no wonder her scent whispered of power – she clearly was! He was suddenly looking forward to talking with her tonight after school – maybe life finally got interesting in this tiny town of Mystic Falls.

* * *

    If there was anything that Caroline Forbes prided herself on, it was that she was rarely, if ever, taken by surprise. She was the Fountain of Information, the Queen of Gossip, the Empress of All-Knowing, the . . . well, you get the idea. And the two new arrivals in town were big news, and she'd been busily mining her networks for any and all nuggets of info that she could find, so she figured she was pretty well-informed and up-to-date on all the relevant gossip. So with everything that happened after she walked out the front doors once school was over for the day, one might excuse her for gaping in shock. Elena and Bonnie were just in front of her, at the bottom of the steps, as they were busy making plans to meet at the Grill, while Caroline dug through her purse for her keys.

    All of a sudden, Elena lurched back into her, with enough force to make her stagger, as her head snapped up to glare at her friend for being so clumsy. Vicki Donovan was standing there with her hands on her hips as she sneered at Elena angrily. "WHERE THE HELL DO YOU GET OFF, GILBERT! You had no right to talk to Ari like that, when you don't even know her!" Caroline's eyes widened, WTH? Since when had Elena had an argument with anyone, and how did she not know about this? She noted Bonnie's slight cringe as she stared in shock at Vicki, who was gearing herself up to push Elena again, before Matt came barrelling out of the crowd of fascinated onlookers and snagged Vicki around the waist, pulling her away as she struggled to get at Elena.

    Arianna Parrish was suddenly there, in front of Vicki and Matt as she gently took hold of Vicki's wrists, hanging on as Vicki cursed viciously at Elena. Ari looked her in the eyes and spoke to her tenderly, soothingly, while Jeremy Gilbert came up beside Matt and tapped him on the shoulder, indicating for him to let Vicki go. Matt did so, slowly and reluctantly, as he kept his eye on his sister warily, while Ari just talked to her quietly. Jeremy was speaking to him, gesturing between Ari and Elena, as he ran a hand over the back of his neck uncomfortably. Matt's face went from annoyance, to disbelief, to shock as Jeremy kept talking to him, obviously explaining something. Vicki was finally calming down when Matt looked back to her, relief in his bright blue eyes, as he spoke to Jeremy out of the corner of his mouth. Jeremy smirked ruefully and nodded at him, clearly in agreement with what he was saying. Vicki looked at Ari with tears in her eyes as she sniffled, they could finally make out their voices now that the majority of people had walked away, seeing that there would be no more major confrontations here. "-'S not fair, Ari! Has she even bothered to apologise? What she did-"

    "-Doesn't matter, Vicki. Who is she to me? Nobody, Vicki, absolutely nobody, so whatever she has to say – it means nothing, not to me. And it  _definitely_ shouldn't mean anything to you." Ari was completely calm as she looked her in the eyes, still lightly clasping her wrists as she rubbed them soothingly with her thumbs. "Come on, Wild Thing," winking conspiratorially at her as her mouth dropped open in shock at the title. "Yeah, that's it. I  _told_  you it would come to me."

    Vicki rolled her eyes in scorn as Jeremy pointed his finger at her and chuckled. "And I told her I'd get her back for laughing at that stupid moniker you slapped on me. How does it feel now,  _Wild Thing_?"

    "Sorry to burst your bubble, Jer," Matt interjected, grinning widely in relief now that he could see his sister was completely diverted from her previous mission to beat the crap out of his . . .  _ex_  . . . girlfriend. "But, ah, you might find that everyone who heard her label you as 'Spike', well, we've been laughing all day-long about it," he chuckled as Jeremy screwed up his face in disgust.

    "Nice.  _Very nice_. Thank you so much for that." The sarcasm was ripe as he muttered at him. "But you realise now, Parrish," raising his voice to include Ari as he stared at her, waggling his brows evilly, "That this means war. You have to have a nickname, too." Ari just snorted and waved her hand disdainfully.

    "Do your worst, Spike. Do your worst," the challenge was clear. Jeremy crossed his arms over his chest as he and Vicki exchanged glances, twisted smirks on their lips. Oh yeah,  _it was on_! "Come on," Ari jerked her head to the car-park invitingly, smirking mischievously. "Who needs a ride?" she held up her keys, clicking the remote to open the top as they all spun to watch it fold back. Matt's eyes gleamed in excitement for a moment, before dulling again as he blew out a breath.

    "Don't I wish," he muttered a bit sulkily, as he turned back to her, shrugging in defeat. "I drove my car, so I'll need it again for tomorrow-" he broke off as she held up her hand in denial.

    "-Pfft! Come on, Donovan. I'll pick you up in the morning for school, if you want, and you can drive your car home tomorrow," her shoulders shrugged in dismissal of his worries as she smiled at him. "Just think, you'll have a story to tell them all, about how you were one of the first to ride in it," she jingled the keys teasingly, as Matt peered over his shoulder longingly at the beautiful machine. He snorted with laughter as he saw that Vicki and Jeremy were already inside, having barely waited for the invitation to pass Ari's lips before they raced over.

    He caught Tyler's look of poorly concealed envy and lust, as he stared hotly from the sleek, glossy, top-of-the-line Maserati convertible to its sleek, glossy owner, and smirked a little as he looked back to Ari. Raising his hands in joking surrender, he shrugged. "Hell, why not?" Ari winked at him, clearly having seen all the glares of resentment and desire and just as obviously dismissing them entirely, as she strutted past him to her car. Once everyone was strapped in, she reversed out, and gave the watchers a thrill as she revved the engine tauntingly, peeling out with a throaty roar as her passengers shouted with laughter. They all threw their heads back, enjoying the sensation of the wind blowing through their hair as she sped out of the gates, music blasting in their ears as they sang along light-heartedly.

    Caroline stared after them for a moment, before shaking herself and turning back to her two friends. Elena was staring at the ground, scuffing her toe, looking for all the world like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, while Bonnie's face was flushed under her dark complexion as she avoided Caroline's beady eye. "Okay. Who wants to fill me in?" Bonnie swallowed heavily, once Caroline had caught the scent of a juicy story, she didn't rest until she knew  _everything_. She caught the sound of Elena's hastily stifled groan from beside her – yep, this was gonna be a  _great_ conversation.

* * *

    Arianna pulled into her driveway, pushing the button on her steering-wheel that controlled the roof of the car as she did so, letting the soft-top enclose the vehicle as the windows rolled up, and pulled to a stop in front of the garage. There was no real need to park it inside; the Confundus Charms layered into the property's Wards would see to it that any would-be thieves would walk away, compelled to forget about their intentions of stealing from her – Ari wasn't a materialistic person, but what was hers, she guarded over fiercely. It was a lesson hard-learned, with other people throughout her life seeking to steal everything from her – her identity, her life, her very will – until she wouldn't stand for it any longer. The moment had come when she, and all the others who had stood faithfully by her side, had taken a stand and risen up against those that sought to oppress them . . . their victory was hard-fought, and not without sacrifice, but they had made themselves heard in the end.

    She came back to the present with a jolt, hearing the slight  _thud_  on the hood of her car as Maarit leapt up to peer through the windshield at her, mewing impatiently as if to say, 'Well? Get out of there, already, and tell me all about your day!' Shaking her head at the demanding kneazle, she opened the door and slid out, stretching her back to work the kinks out before she snatched her familiar off the hood.

    "Bad kitty! Your claws better not have been out while you were prancing around on my shiny new car," she scolded playfully, turning back around to face down the street as she waved with her free hand to Jeremy and Jenna, who were still standing on the steps in front of their house, as they waved back at her – and hadn't THAT been a surprise, to find that Jeremy  _Gilbert_  was in actual fact Jenna  _Sommers_ ' nephew? Jenna had been one of the women who had shown up as part of the Founder's Council Welcome Party a week ago, along with Sheila Bennett, Carol Lockwood and Sheriff Elizabeth Forbes (who'd shown up in her work uniform, seeing as she was officially on-duty at the time), to name a few of the attendees.

* * *

_She and Jenna had gotten along like a house on fire, Ari rather thought it had been the fact that, unbeknownst to Jenna, they had been of a similar age even though Ari had the appearance of a teenager. They had spent a while in the kitchen, chatting and getting to know one another, while Ari silently cursed the fact that most of what she was telling Jenna was heavily modified to fit with her falsified new background, if not outright lying – she had the feeling that if she and Jenna had ever had the opportunity to meet as equals, that they would have been great friends._

_Sheila had come up to her afterwards, once everyone else had left, holding her hands gently as they both closed their eyes and breathed in slowly, light-headed and a little giddy at the rush of power flowing between them. Sheila shook herself and laughed softly, almost in disbelief, at the feeling as she stared at the younger woman – no, this incredible young Witch – that stood before her. She had been told of her coming from some old friends who had reached out to her, asking for her to help this wounded and damaged young soul, badly in need of sanctuary from the world. She could feel it, could almost See it, this poor girl needed help, and Sheila would not fail her, not as long as she drew breath on this earth. Smiling at her tenderly, she spoke, "Child, don't you worry now." Watching as the other woman's brow arched inquiringly, she answered the unspoken questions. "I'm certainly no seer, but I do feel that though your path will not be easy, you will come through in the end. You have a Will like no other that I have ever seen in my life, and believe me when I tell you; I have met a great many people in my years, human or otherwise._

    " _And as for Miss Jenna Sommers, I also See that she has a part in this, too. I don't know how, or why, but she_ will _be with you on your journey, in some way. Just hold on to that, child, and have faith." She looked seriously at Ari as the latter snorted derisively at that, biting her lip in frustration as she paced the room. Sheila only shook her head sadly. "Yes,_ faith _. I may not know your whole story, and that doesn't really matter. I can tell that you've had many trials to overcome – this is just one more. You_ will _overcome, Arielle Potter, it just isn't in you to surrender, or give up." Ari looked at her, smiling waveringly as her eyes filled with tears that she fought back fiercely, refusing to shed them._

    " _I fought so hard to be able to live my life freely, to be done with all the bullshit – excuse my French – and all the lies, and now this happens. When will it be over, Sheila? When will I be free?" she whispered, her over-bright eyes begging the older woman for answers._

_Sheila sighed heavily and then fixed a determined smile on her lips. "Do you want the truth? Or more bullshit?" she raised her eyebrow archly, and then smirked as Ari pinned her with a withering stare. "That's what I thought. Now, if there is anything that I have learned in my life, it is that nothing – NOTHING – and nobody, is ever really free of obligations. We all answer to something, or somebody, at the end of the day. Real freedom comes when you acknowledge that truth, and make a decision on who you gonna answer to – do you answer to your government, do you answer to a man, or maybe you feel that you should answer to God. Who knows? It don't matter who, as long as you can live with your choice, and make peace with it," she finished, pointing her long finger at Ari as she thought on her words. Sheila jumped a little as Maarit suddenly made the leap from the floor into her lap, as she sat on the couch, purring up at her raptly and patting at her hand with her paw._

    " _She's after a petting and a good, old-fashioned belly-rub," Ari laughed softly at her pleading familiar as her long ears pricked up at the older woman in interest, demanding her attention._

    " _Well, aint you a sweetie?" Sheila cooed at the precocious kitten, giving her a scratch between her ears that sent Maarit into a stupor of rapturous delight, lolling onto her back happily while Sheila caressed her lovingly. "And what kind of breed is she?" Sheila asked, nodding her head at the blissed-out feline in her lap._

_Ari had just taken a sip of her tea, and held up her finger to indicate her need to swallow, quickly gulping her mouthful down before she cleared her throat. "She's a bit of a mixture, really. She's out of the last litter that one of my friend's familiar had fathered before he passed away a little while ago, and he was a mixed-breed, as well. He was half ginger tom and half magical, and based on his size and some of his characteristics, we'd wondered if he was partly Bengalese Demi-Leo. Her mother, on the other hand, was a pure magical breed, but from a combination of a Blue Persian sire and Egyptian Mau mother. She's my baby girl," she grinned at the purring kitten, whose eyes had slitted open to watch her, as if Maarit knew that she was the topic of discussion. For all they knew, she very well might. Kneazles were incredibly intelligent, and no one had ever quite worked out exactly how much they truly understood of the world around them . . ._

* * *

    Maarit just purred at her smugly, knowing that her mistress couldn't really care less about scratches on the car – as long as the engine roared, the speed was top-notch, and the ride was smooth as silk, Ari was happy. She strolled inside, idly scratching Maarit under her chin as the kitten nuzzled at her contentedly, blissfully happy to be with her girl again. Maarit had had a wonderful day, stamping her mark on her territory by chasing away any stray mice that were unwary enough to try poking their heads into her girl's home to see if they could take up residence here . . . she was having none of that! Any annoying pests as well as the birds nesting in the trees on the front lawn had quickly learned to respect her authority as well, SHE ruled this land, and only she could decide if she wished to suffer their presence in order to make her mistress happy – the early-morning birdsong always brought a smile to Miss Ari's lips, even while she was deeply asleep.

    "Well, Maarit, it seems that we'll have a visitor tonight, at least for a little while," Maarit's ears pricked up as she stared at Ari inquisitively, demanding full disclosure. "We'll sit out on the porch once you've had some tea, though, 'cause we're not going to invite him inside," she leaned down to whisper the last in Maarit's ear meaningfully, as Maarit's eyes widened in shock. Surely not! That kind, HERE? She wasn't terribly impressed to hear about this bit of news . . . how was she supposed to protect her girl from one of THAT SORT? Well, at least Miss Ari was smart enough not to let him in – after all, not everyone was lucky enough to be as clever as a kneazle . . .

    "And, while we're on that particular subject, I have some rather scathing messages to send out to my so-called buddies who were supposed to keep me in the loop on matters like this," Ari muttered direly, eyes narrowed as she glared off into space, mentally working out exactly what she intended to write in those messages, grinning toothily as she imagined putting her thoughts into words, all the biting and disdainful little comments that she could make regarding a certain Coven's lack of attention to detail. Maarit butted her head against Ari's chin firmly, mewing at her insistently. "What, Your Highness? Are you hungry?" Maarit chirped at her happily, whiskers bristling in anticipation . . . if her mistress was insisting on having one of THOSE over to her house, it was best if she kept up her energy – the better to defend her mistress with, if needs be. "Alright, my love. Let's see now," Ari wandered into the kitchen, pulling open the cupboard with Maarit's gourmet food selection. "Now, for dinner, hmmm. Grilled swordfish with jasmine rice and herbed vinaigrette. No? How about . . . ooh, this one is good!" she held the pack under Maarit's twitching nose so that she could see for herself, "Smoked cod and wild ranch greens in sweet Southern mayonnaise. It's gotta be the right one, we  _are_  in Virginia, after all." Maarit chuffed happily and hopped down, bouncing over to her bowl. Ari sniggered as the guzzle-fest from this morning was repeated – honestly, her kitten had absolutely no dignity when it came to food.

    Ari walked up the stairs to her room, hands in her pockets as she contemplated the day so far – some friends, some rivals, a really  _creepy_  professor – if she didn't know any better, she would have thought that this was the mundane version of Hogwarts . . . her teenage boarding-school years repeated, all over again. She shuddered at the thought as she walked into her bedroom, walking over to her laptop and waking it from sleep-mode. Her brows arched in surprise as she saw that none of her contacts appeared to be online at the moment, before they snapped down broodingly as her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Every day, ever since she had arrived here at the beginning of September, there had always been someone online at the end of the day, waiting to hear from her . . . but absolutely  _no one_  was connected  _today_ , of all days, when she was about to ask some  _very_ pointed questions about the presence of a vampire in this town, after they had assured her that she was in the clear? No, she didn't buy it, not for a second. Her head snapped around, eyes narrowing at the newspaper on her bedside table. She hadn't read it this morning, preferring to get to the school early, but she vaguely remembered hearing something on the radio on the way, before she'd flicked it to stereo-mode to listen to music. Striding over, she picked it up and stared at the headline: BODIES FOUND MUTILATED BY ANIMAL, the sub-heading told of a missing local couple found dead after police discovered their vehicle on the highway, while the article stated that one Darren Malloy, 24, and Brooke Fenton, 22, were reported missing after failing to make it home after a concert in Richmond the previous evening. Once the couple's neighbours had alerted police, a search along the highway had located their SUV, with the windscreen smashed and Darren Fenton's body lying on the ground nearby, his throat mangled. A blood trail had lead officers to Brooke Fenton's body, the article claimed, further away down the road. She had suffered the same type of injuries as Darren Malloy. According to police, the current belief was that they had hit an animal on the road as they were driving, and when they had stopped to see if it was okay, it had turned on them, savaging Darren as Brooke fled for her life, only to be attacked as she ran for help.

    Ari snorted in disbelief; you could call it an  _animal_ , she mused sourly, if your definition of that merely encompassed anything that wasn't  _human._ This had all the characteristics of a supernatural attack of some kind – an isolated stretch of highway, late at night when few people, if any, were around, and throats torn out while the bodies were drained of blood – so, given the presence of Stefan Salvatore in town, she was gonna go out on a limb here, and guess that it was a vampire. Maybe Salvatore has fallen off the wagon again, she mused, before shaking her head. Everything that she had ever read about that particular 'Ripper' indicated that the body count would be much higher if he had. Once he was off the animal diet – he was off in the worst way, feeding frenziedly, with little control over his appetite.

    She walked back to her desk, dropping the paper beside the laptop as she opened the browser and began tapping away furiously, clicking 'Send' to fire off several pithy little e-mails to her contacts, sneering at the screen as she typed out her questions for their peculiar silence on the matter of vampires in Mystic Falls. The underlying theme of every note: she didn't see that Mystic Falls had a  _previous history_  of supernatural issues; Mystic Falls has a  _current_ case of vampire attacks in the town – please explain? Hitting 'Send' one final time with an emphatic jab, she stretched her arms out and cracked her knuckles with a satisfied sigh, petting Maarit companionably. The kneazle had joined her, presumably after finishing off her meal, but had remained quiet, curling up on top of the newspaper as she peered at the screen through her slitted eyes as Ari tapped on the keyboard, venting her wrath via technology.

    Gazing out the window, she watched as the sun dipped ever closer to the horizon, and scratched Maarit under her ear as she murmured, "Well, my love, it must be about time that we headed out to the porch, and got ready to greet our guest." Maarit grumbled and muttered as she got up unwillingly, stretching out her whole body and flexing her paws as she yawned in boredom, blinking her eyes slowly at Ari. Ari grabbed up the newspaper and headed out the door, leaving it up to Maarit whether she wanted to follow or not. She caught up to her mistress at the bottom of the stairs, padding along beside her as they went outside to sit on the swing on the front porch. Maarit's eyes were caught by a lizard skittering along the railing enclosing the right-side area of the terrace, and they narrowed dangerously – the nerve! Flicking her ears back, she gathered herself in a crouch as she watched intently – and pounced. Missed! Ari chuckled as she raced to and fro, batting at the poor little skink as it frantically dodged and weaved along the wooden planks, desperate to escape the kneazle's hostile intent. Finally, it found a chink in one of the boards and slithered through, narrowly escaping Maarit's annoyed swipe at his tail as she huffed in frustration, her bushy tail fluffed out as it banged on the wood in irritation. Ari couldn't contain herself any longer – she burst out laughing, whooping hysterically as Maarit eyed her in disgust for taking the side of the benighted reptile invader.

    Ari nearly fell off the swing as she cackled madly, holding her sides as she snorted and wheezed, until she finally subsided as she eyed Maarit, perched on the railing with her back firmly to Ari, nose in the air as she seethed silently with her wounded pride. Suddenly, her head snapped to the side, her eyes narrowing as her hackles rose along the length of her back, from head to tail. She bared her needle-sharp teeth in a fierce snarl as she hissed menacingly at the intruder. Ari was swift to sober up, springing upright on the swing as her gaze swivelled to stare at the place where Maarit's baleful glare was fixed. Stefan Salvatore was standing before her driveway, making no move to come on to her property as he raised his hands in an 'I come in peace' gesture. The kneazle's slitted yellow eyes promised 'One step closer and you'll leave in  _pieces_ '. Stefan obviously received the message loud and clear, staying right where he was as he kept a slightly cautious eye on the outraged feline, who had puffed out her fur in warning as she bristled at him. "So, Killer Cat, indeed, huh?" he called to Ari, only half-jokingly, as Maarit stared him down menacingly.

    Ari smirked at him. "Yeah, this is my little guardian, alright. She hates it when people lurk around without giving notice that they're here," she wasn't an idiot – and neither was Maarit. They'd known full well that Stefan was watching from a couple of houses down from behind a fence, as Maarit chased the lizard back and forth across the wooden boards. Stefan grimaced in realisation that he was busted on his stalker-like behaviour. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he opened his mouth to explain, only to shut it as Ari raised her finger. "It's alright, Stefan. It's actually reassuring to see that not  _all_  of your instincts have been dulled from your, uh,  _vegetarian_  lifestyle," she crooked her fingers at the word 'vegetarian', her mouth twisting slightly. "I would have been more worried if you hadn't bothered to look around, 'scope out the situation', as it were. THAT would speak of a serious lack of self-preservation, an unwillingness to practice a healthy amount of discretion regarding your . . .  _otherness_ ," she rolled her eyes as he hissed slightly at her, darting his eyes around in panic for any possible eavesdroppers. " _Relax_ , Stefan. Didn't you wonder about your . . . coy reluctance . . . shall we say, about coming any closer onto the property?" she pointed to where he stood, feet butted up against the bricked driveway but never quite stepping over.

    He shrugged in confusion. "I figured that your cat would probably try to shred me if I did," indicating Maarit subtly with his head. Her eyes narrowed a little at being the object of his attention, but Maarit was finally calming down a bit, seeing that he showed no aggression or hostility to her mistress. She jumped down onto the lawn, trotting over to him daintily as he went very still, eyeing her cautiously. She strutted over to sniff at his boots, circling him appraisingly, before chuffing haughtily and sauntering back to the steps with her tail held high, as Stefan watched her go in bemusement. "Well, what then?" he called to her as she hopped onto the swing beside Ari, who was highly amused to see him talk to Maarit personally, as though he was completely convinced of her ability to express her opinion in a way that he could understand. "What does that mean?" he spread his arms wide in appeal. "You'll have to forgive my ignorance, but I don't speak Killer Cat. You gotta explain it to me, out loud."

    Ari giggled as Maarit just blinked at him lazily, secretly enjoying the frustration on his face as he wrinkled his nose at the mischievous kneazle in exasperation.  _Meeeowww!_  Maarit stood to turn a few circles on the swing before she resettled herself, a little closer to Ari than she had been previously, conspicuously leaving a space large enough for Stefan to sit down . . . if he dared. He looked to Ari for clarification. "Go ahead, Stefan," she beckoned him forward. "Maarit made room for you, so it means you have her permission," Stefan grinned sheepishly as he walked up to the stairs, stepping onto the porch and sitting down as Ari set her foot on the wood to push gently, setting the swing in motion. Maarit hopped up again, plonking herself down in Stefan's lap as he looked down at her, stupefied – animals  _hated_  vampires,  _feared_  them. None of them were ever comfortable in their presence, sensing their highly predatory nature. "She's no ordinary animal, Stefan," his gaze swung to Ari as she smiled gently at him. "I know that you can sense that about her – it's the same instinct that you had about me today – that you're in the presence of something  _other_  . . . not quite the everyday, normal thing."

    "You said something, before, about not having to worry about anyone overhearing us, and that I didn't step onto your property before I was invited for a reason. Why?" he looked at her curiously, tilting his head to the side as she grinned cheekily.

    "Magic, of course!" she relented as he glared at her in annoyance. "Okay, okay. Well, obviously you already know about Witches and Spells, and all of that. And you understand the Magic that binds your species – the sun will burn you unless you wear a protective enchantment; wood is lethal if it destroys your heart; certain herbs can injure and weaken you; and the big one, of course, is that you are forbidden from freely entering the homes of the living, unless you are invited in.

    "The protections that are set up around my home don't just guard the buildings, they encompass the entire property . . . no one can come onto the grounds with hostile intent, and a predatory species like vampires – or their familiars – cannot penetrate the barriers unless I give my consent. In most cases, they won't even realise that they are blocked; these enchantments are woven with a type of compulsion magic that confuses people, warns them away very subtly."

    "Like when I was standing there, just watching your Killer Cat eye me like a juicy side of beef?"

    "Ask yourself this, Stefan. What does any vampire have to fear from a cat? Even one as fierce as my little Maarit?" she tilted her head at him knowingly as he closed his eyes in realisation – the Spells had been at work on him, warning him to be wary of going where he was not wanted, making him feel that his presence was not to be tolerated unless the mistress of the house  _chose_  to welcome him.

    His breath huffed out in an incredulous laugh. "That's . . .  _amazing_. But I've never heard of magic like that before . . ."

    Her lips tilted in an ironic little smile as she looked out over the peaceful street, speaking quietly and firmly to him. "Considering the potential life-span of your species, Stefan, you might want to take into account the fact that you are actually considered quite young for a vampire. And," she turned back to watch him as he frowned at her statement. "You  _do_  tend to stick with your old patterns, the habits that you formed as a human. You stay with the familiar, always hanging around on the fringes of the human world, never delving any deeper into the supernatural aspects of the world than you really have to. This world is bigger,  _deeper_ , than you've ever discovered. There are still secrets that you have yet to uncover, hidden away in the shadows. The kind of magic that I speak of is part of that secret."

    "And this secret-"

    "-Is a secret that can't really be told, unless you already know it. Catch-22," she laughed sardonically at the paradox, as he shook his head in dismay. "So, all that you really needed to hear from me tonight is that you're safe. I do not plan on telling anyone – unless _you_  plan on giving up your animal blood diet and rampaging through Mystic Falls – seeing as I plan on actually staying here for a while, I'd like to feel that my neighbours are safe in their beds and my conscience is . . . mostly . . . clear. Speaking of . . ." she picked up the newspaper on her lap and waved it at him meaningfully. ". . . Please be honest with me, Stefan. Is  _this_  your work?" she pointed out the article about the attack on two of the locals.

    He read silently, brow creased in consternation. He looked up at her, his eyes wide. "You know, it DOES say 'animal attack'," clearly trying to deflect.

    She closed her eyes in exasperation as Maarit growled softly in his lap. "This isn't going to work if you try to be evasive, Stefan. If you actually read it all the way through, then you also know that it says, and I quote, 'Their throats were mutilated . . . died from massive blood loss and trauma . . . an unidentified blood-type found in the fragments of glass from the windshield . . . unknown animal believed to be responsible . . .' all the hallmarks of a vampire feeding – and apparently – one who finds it rather amusing to play 'Chicken' with random vehicles on the highway," she eyed him as he stared at the paper fixedly, his hand trembling slightly.

    "It's not me," he whispered, almost too softly for her to catch. "I swear," he looked up at her desperately, willing her to believe him. "I didn't do this!"

    She believed him – the shock in his eyes when he saw the article was telling – he hadn't known until now. She pondered the mystery, and something clicked in her head. "Have you heard from your brother lately?" Stefan's body went rigid in shock, telling her that the thought had never even occurred to him.

    "Wait . . . how . . . how would you even know about  _him_?" he babbled, shaking his head in denial – how was it possible that someone he'd never even met before today could know so much about him, about his history?

    "In . . . certain circles . . . shall we say, the two of you are quite famous, or maybe the word is  _infamous_. The Salvatore brothers, Damon and Stefan, and their endless blood-feud, all begun over the love of a woman – as these things do tend to start, after all. One as dark as darkness can be, the other as bright as the light of the sun," she finished lyrically, flourishing her hand dramatically. Stefan just shook his head dolefully, his mind churning with all his thoughts. "Just think about it, Stefan. Okay?" she leaned over to nudge his arm with hers as he stared blankly into the distance, trying to make sense of it all. He really hoped that her theory was wrong – if Damon WAS back – he shuddered in dread. That was a scenario that NEVER ended well for people.

    She jabbed him in the side with her elbow, jolting from his gloomy thoughts, as Maarit dug her claws in lightly to get his attention. "Take some time to work it out. I think you'll find that the answers are already there, you just have to face up to them," she smiled at him softly, as Maarit jumped out of his lap to curl up on the seat once more, closing her eyes and dozing off. The dismissal, while unspoken, was clear. He had just been told, in the politest way possible, to get lost. He chuckled softly as he stood up, turning to Ari, he bowed courteously as only a well-bred young Southern gentleman could.

    "Thank you for inviting me here, and for being so open with me. I promise, I have no intention of running amok here, I just wanted to come home and spend some time with the last bit of family that I have." He straightened up as her lips curled up in delight at his Old-World manners . . . he wondered at the slight sadness he thought he glimpsed in her eyes before they cleared.

    "I think I'll sit here a little longer, enjoying the view and all," she smiled at him cheekily, and he knew that she wasn't fooled. The 'view' that she spoke of included most of the street, including a house a little way down on the other side of the road, where he had a certain errand to run, returning some lost property . . . and a girl he very much wanted to see again, with chestnut hair and big brown eyes. Considering that Arianna Parrish had known him for what, and who, he was from the moment she'd walked into that classroom, he rather thought that she could not possibly have been blind to ever-so-subtle looks between himself and Elena during History class – she had been sitting behind him the whole time, after all, perfectly positioned to observe every fleeting glance.

    And speaking of Elena . . . "What happened today? With you and Elena?" he questioned, dying to know.

    "Your super-powers let you down on that one, Stefan?" she queried lazily, blinking at him in much the same way as her cat did – like mistress, like familiar, he supposed – neither was even remotely as innocent as the wide, guileless amber eyes made them appear. He wasn't  _that_  naive! "If Elena chooses to tell you, someday, then you'll know. It's not really  _my_   story to share with anyone else." Conceding defeat, he bowed once more with a little flourish in farewell, as she beamed at him and waggled her fingers to send him on his way. He'd been absolutely right in History class today – life was suddenly  _very_ interesting here in Mystic Falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: Thoughts? As for the chapter title, I've never seen the movie, but the very thought of having to revisit my life at 17 is enough to send a cold shiver of horror down my back - so glad to NOT be a teenager any more - how about everyone else? Please let me know what you think :)


	9. Chapter 8: Dare You to be Happy (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another dream . . . ? Another life . . . ? How can the life of a witch who lived - and died - over a thousand years ago have any effect on Arielle in the present? Who knows . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See first chapter.  
> A/N: ***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***
> 
> ***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***
> 
> There are some BIG warnings for this chapter guys - I mean it . . . parts of this are not very happy at all, so please read this to make sure that you know exactly what you are up for. There is *EXPLICIT* Character Death . . . I describe the death of a very young child, a violent and horrible death, I had a very hard time writing this - I was crying all the way through, and when I finished, I ran to the toilet to throw up. That section in this chapter is marked at the beginning with the ***WARNING*** banner as seen above so that you will know exactly where it is, and you can avoid it if you want to. I will mark the end of that scene with ***SCENE END*** so that you know that it's over with. Further warnings still apply, though, one is for several references to the rape of women and an under-age female, though no actual explicit scenes are published. The last warning is for minor swearing, explicit violence and character deaths being described. I have changed the rating of this fic to 'E' for 'Explicit' for a reason, as well as updating the warnings. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Chapter 8: Dare You To Be Happy (Part 1)

January 1004 

_Journal Entry_

**It is coming . . . the end. I feel it now, as I sit here**   
**waiting. I have returned to this place for a final**   
**time and all is exactly as I left it, as if I never left**   
**at all. But I did . . . I had to. There is nothing else**   
**for me to do now, I am alone, and I can only wait.**   
**_She_ is coming. One of my last remaining allies in**   
**this place; she will make certain that she is here**   
**first, before they come to take me, to finish it. Her**   
**skills in defensive magic will be the gift that I –**   
**that _we_  – will need to ensure that everything that**   
**must be concealed . . . protected . . . from their**   
**grasp, will be kept safe.**

**This journal most of all – it must only ever be read**   
**by one of my line – and, if the spells are performed**   
**correctly, there is only One who will ever feel the**   
**Call to read it. The Witch Unlike Any Other, that**   
**is what they named me, and I will not be the last.**   
**Another shall rise, in time, and enact the justice**   
**which I have not been able to, not fully. That which**   
**I have started, she must finish . . . the wrongs must**   
**be righted, the innocent blood spilled must be**   
**avenged.**

**Yes, they will come, and I smile to think of it . . .**   
**they truly believe that they have won. FOOLS! I have**   
**not feared death since I was but a small child; when**   
**I saw it come for my parents, for women, men, and**   
**children alike – death has no bias, it takes us all**   
**equally. I have seen things that are worse even than**   
**death: things that people have done to others**   
**without compassion or remorse, things that crippled**   
**their victims, that wounded far more than simply the**   
**body . . . these things shatter the mind, the spirit,**   
**and the soul, until death becomes a refuge, an escape**   
**from their mortal suffering.**

**Almost two years have passed since that night, when**   
**I fulfilled my purpose and fled this place . . . and now,**   
**at the end, I find myself thinking back, back to where**   
**it all began. There are so many places, throughout my**   
**life, that I could have considered as my true origins:**   
**was it my birth in a place far from here, across the**   
**great ocean; or when I was forced to flee my home**   
**at the behest of my parents, both of whom stayed**   
**behind in their village to buy the evacuated women,**   
**children and elderly time to escape; maybe it was**   
**when I confronted the bloodthirsty Ghūl in the caves,**   
**and stripped his fangs from him; or perhaps it was**   
**the day that I met _him_  for the very first time – my**   
**soul-twin – standing proudly alongside his other**   
**siblings, the youngest of them all.**

**So many beginnings, but I come back in my mind,**   
**time and again, to one day in particular – to that**   
**morning when I awoke, warm and rested, from**   
**sleeping in between two of the people that I have**   
**loved the most in my life, my sister and my brother.**   
**He was not my blood-brother, of course; he was not**   
**born of my mother's womb nor of my father's seed,**   
**but in all the ways that really mattered, we were**   
**family. It is so strange, in all truth, to think of just**   
**how well he knew me, from the very beginning. He**   
**had not seen me since I was little more than a babe,**   
**not yet two years of age, when he and my sister left**   
**Al-Andalus in 990, and yet, he understood exactly**   
**what I needed to hear to have me stay. He incited me,**   
**he challenged me – my bold, loving, red-haired Arik –**   
**he threw his head back and laughed as he dared me to**   
**find my own place here, to not run away . . . he dared**   
**me to find happiness.**

**Thus challenged, how could I have resisted? Perhaps**   
**it is this that is MY fatal flaw – my inability to back**   
**down, to walk away from a test of my will . . . of my**   
**resolve. The goal was set: I would find MY place, and**   
**as he asked of me, I would be happy.**

**And so I was – even as I look back now, at all of the**   
**suffering, the pain and the deaths of those that I loved,**   
**those that I called my friends – I will forever be**   
**thankful for having been given the opportunity to know**   
**them, to love them . . . whatever happened, however**   
**much they suffered in their deaths, before all of that,**   
**they were so happy in their lives . . . _I was happy_  . . .**

* * *

September 994 

Sætrevatn, in the Unclaimed Territories 

_The dull, grey light of false dawn filtered into the room through small chinks in the shutters, as Eiríkr stirred and slitted his eyes open reluctantly. He woke up at the same hour every day, had done so ever since his early childhood growing up in the household of his foster parents, Leandros and Zafira, in order to get an early start on his chores for the day, or to go hunting as was the case for this morning. He was strangely exhausted at this moment, however, feeling as though he had just barely closed his eyes in sleep for the night . . . LAST NIGHT! Eyes flying wide, he turned his head to look beside him. Finding only Ione's sweet face half-buried in her pillows as she slumbered peacefully, he frowned in confusion . . . where . . . ?_

    " _Good morning, Eiríkr," her voice was perfectly clear, yet soft enough that it wouldn't disturb the others as they continued to doze. His head snapped up and around to see her sitting by the window, the shutters barely cracked enough for her to peer outside, her chin was propped on her hands on the sill as the bright green eyes stared out into the early morning. She never turned to see him watching her, almost desperately, as if he feared that she was only a figment of his imagination, an illusion that would fade in the bright light of the new day approaching._

    " _Marta . . ." he paused to clear his throat gruffly and winced at the hoarse rasping he felt, still husky from sleep and raw from his grief at learning of the loss of the only parents that he had ever truly known. Gently, he transferred the twins, one at a time, from their places atop his chest to the bed just in front of Ione, nudging them into her arms until she folded them into her still-sleeping embrace, muttering restlessly before subsiding with the girls curled against her. Eiríkr rolled out of bed, taking care not to disturb them, and stretched lazily, his large hands nearly brushing the ceiling before he felt his shoulders crack quietly. Dropping his arms, one hand rubbed at the back of his neck as he turned towards the window, prowling over silently as Ma`at contemplated the view from her perch, the emerald eyes seeming reflective and faraway. ". . . When I woke up, and you were not there in the bed with us, I wondered if it had only been a dream . . ." he stopped a good few feet away, wary of infringing on her space and offering her cause to take flight away from them._

_Her face turned from the window then, her eyes fixing upon him, her expression deceptively tranquil and calm. Eiríkr was not fooled – she was very much like a wild animal that had sought refuge from a storm, taking shelter by the hearth for a night before sneaking away with dawn's first light, ever guarded and untrusting of the world of Man. She was no tame thing, no loyal hound to come to heel at the snap of the master's fingers or quail under the threat of the whip, and she never would be, not after all the challenges that she had clearly already faced in her short life. He looked at the scar he had noticed last night, a thin pink line that ran from just underneath the corner of her right eye to slash downwards across her cheekbone and stopped just below her nose, as if someone – or something – had raked a knife or claw across her face in a struggle. He did not ask – if she wanted to share the story, it would be her choice and her choice alone._

_The corner of her mouth quirked slightly as she looked at him, her lashes veiling her eyes for a moment before lifting once more as she appeared almost as if she were staring straight through him, her inner gaze fixed on her past – the past that had brought her here, to them. "No . . . it was not a dream . . . it is real . . . all of it is true . . ." her whispering was barely audible as the words husked out from her throat as her eerily distant gaze still pierced through him, but he could hear them as clearly as if she had screamed them at the top of her lungs, every word striking at his heart like hammer-blows as he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. By the gods, he swore inwardly, what horrors had she seen? What manner of suffering had she been forced to endure as she fled from Al-Andalus to make her way here, to the New World, to the last remaining true family that she had?_

    " _Khāl Ibrahim sent a letter to Abbi, to warn him," his eyes snapped open again, fixing on her face as those fierce green eyes burned with all of the emotions that he imagined she must have felt in those moments, "Al-Mansur was sending his finest troops, he said, to escort the son of_ _Ránnulfr the Red to_ _Qur_ _ṭ_ _uba, where Al-Mansur was claiming that you, Eiríkr_ _Ránnulfsson,_ _would be assigned as a ward of Khalīfah Hisham II." Her gaze suddenly cleared and refocussed on his suddenly pale face as she said the last, her mouth twisting in savage contempt as she bit out the words as though they tasted foul on her tongue. She shook her head incredulously, "Perhaps Al-Mansur thought that my parents were fools, believing that they were safe from his wrath because of my father's family's history of loyal service to the Khilāfat, and mother's own blood ties to the royal family. They knew better."_

    " _How do you know all of this?" Eiríkr grated out, his brows snapped together over his eyes as he frowned at her in utter confusion. "You are too young . . ."_

    " _. . . I have read all of their papers, so very many times over, as I travelled here . . ." reaching into her borrowed tunic as she spoke and retrieving the leather satchel and holding it out in front of her so that he could see it clearly. ". . . And I was not too young to remember that last day before the soldiers came, when they held me tight as if they would never let go . . . but they did." He crossed the last bit of space between them and knelt down in front of her, much as he had the previous evening, holding out his hand tentatively, palm up. She only looked at it for a moment, unmoving; before her little hand slowly reached out to clasp his, their fingers winding together, as their mutual grief nearly overwhelmed them once more. "Abbi met with the rest of the village Elders, he was so surprised, and touched, when most of them said that they would stay to defend their homes and their people. They gathered as many wagons and carts as they could find, for the women and children to be evacuated along with their belongings and supplies._

    " _When the Skelapinis family said that they were travelling to al-Lix_ _būna, Ummi begged them to take me with them. She gifted them with The Tiger's Eye-"_ _Eiríkr inhaled sharply at that, he remembered the few times that Ummi Zafira had taken out the great yellow diamond to show them – it had been part of her bride-gift from her father, Bakir ibn Musad, upon her marriage to Leandros. "-She said that she considered it a small price to pay, if they would see to it that I could safely seek passage aboard any ship that could cross the Océano Atlántico to bring me here to you." She smiled bitterly at that last statement, as his brow furrowed in suspicion._

    " _But . . . that was not what happened, was it?" he questioned, his eyes piercing into hers, demanding the truth from her. "They did not fulfil their end of the bargain, did they, Marta?"_

    " _Not because they did not wish to," she rushed to reassure him, her hand clenching on his as she sought to impress upon him the veracity of her words, "It all went so wrong – it was so sudden that we had no warning." She stared at him fiercely before her eyes glazed over – once more she found her mind falling back into those terrible moments, when her world fell apart. She could still hear the anguished screams echoing in her ears . . ._

* * *

    . . . They had been ambushed – these troops had clearly been left in reserve at the rear of the main army to cover the main crossing of the paths leading to the territorial cities, and cut off any retreat by the villagers. It seemed that Al-Mansur intended to show no mercy to those that he perceived as traitors, agitators against his totalitarian control of the Khilāfat; not even to the women, children, and the elderly – innocents who only sought refuge from the soldiers that had come to their little town in search of a boy who was long-gone, far from the reach of Al-Mansur.

    The carts had remained together for safety, shadowing each other on the roads over the last two nights, as they travelled to the crossing where the individual families would take their leave of each other, splitting up to seek their own planned destinations – some, like Ma`at and the Skelapinis family, were heading as far away as they could possibly manage, travelling to al-Lixbūna or other coastal cities and towns in the west; while others would set forth for places like Batalyaws or Saraqusta, hoping to hide themselves away in the crowded towns and cities. It was not to be.

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    There was chaos everywhere that Ma`at looked; wagons set aflame, people were fleeing in every direction as the uniformed men closed in, sneering and laughing as they hacked and sliced their way through the – for the most part – unarmed and panicked crowd. She gagged in revulsion, her eyes and mouth opened wide as she shrieked in unheard protest, seeing one soldier amongst a small group of others snatch up a little girl, who could have been no more than three years of age, by her ankle and swinging her around in circles before he flung the tiny body with brutal force into the trunk of a nearby tree. His laughter, along with that of his compatriots, was loud and cruel, as they watched her frightened screams be cut abruptly short at the unforgiving impact against the unyielding wood of the tree. Even over all of the yelling and screaming, and the crackle of the flames as more carts were set alight . . . Ma`at heard the sickening  _crunch_  of the child's fragile bones shattering on contact with the trunk. Unbelievably, she was still alive, as her body rolled limply away from the base of the tree where she had fallen, her mouth wide open and the tiny face covered in blood as she gasped desperately, her crushed chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to breathe.

    Ma'at wept as she stared, frozen in horror, from under the cart where Melania Skelapinis had told her to hide when the soldiers came – she could only watch on in anguish as the soldier bestowed his final affront on the tiny victim, with his booted foot set atop her skull as he began to slowly and steadily apply pressure, bearing down with sadistic glee as his companions whooped and hollered, cheering him on as the skin of the little girl's face slowly turned from olive, to red, and then to mottled blue while she writhed weakly, struggling to get away from her tormentor as he continued to put more weight onto his leg, slowly crushing her head like an egg. Ma`at could barely bring herself to believe what she was witnessing, even as she saw it with her own two eyes . . .  _why_? Why were they doing this to innocent people . . . how could this man, a soldier like her father had been, stand to hurt a child this way?

    Her state of petrified disbelief was finally shattered – along with her heart – as she saw, and heard, the terrible ending of an innocent young life, the delicate bones in her neck and cranium finally succumbing to the irresistible force applied by the soldier's boot. The broken head lolled backwards in a gruesome display as the expression of fear in the sightless brown eyes – and the bruised and mottled skin – told of the tortuous death suffered by this poor child.

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    Ma`at crawled out from under the wagon, reaching into her tunic as she did so for her trusty sling, gifted to her by her father on her fifth name-day, a mere three months ago, after she had proven to him – with his very own sling, no less – that she was a skilled wielder of that particular weapon. She spied a pouch lying on the ground not far from the wagon – she knew that pouch! It was the one that her mother had shown to her, just prior to tucking it away at the bottom of her chest of belongings in the cart, before the wagon train left al-Gulawesi. Inside were the coins of the realm, minted in solid gold and extremely heavy, meant to buy her passage on any ship that was departing the port city for the Unclaimed Territories in the west. Those coins were very,  _very_  heavy . . . and she knew exactly what to do with them.

    Plucking up the hefty sack, she used the drawstring at the top of the pouch to secure it to the waist of her breeches, letting it fall back against her thigh as she rose into a crouching position and unwound the sling. She dug around in the sack for her first handful of ammunition, and placed one of the coins into the holder, getting it ready to hurl. Looking over at the group of soldiers, her eyes narrowed in fury – and the first stirrings of a seething, black hatred – as she saw that they were still standing around the body of the slain girl, still guffawing like idiots and clapping the unrepentant killer on the back, congratulating him as he grinned proudly at their praise, puffing out his thin chest as if he truly believed that he had accomplished a great deed here. She was about to see to it that he would achieve no more 'magnificent victories' on this night, or any other night. She had to squint a little; there was a thick haze of grey smoke in the air from the smouldering wooden wagons still burning as the fires raged.

    Her wrist snapped out, extending the sling outwards as her forearm began to rotate, and the deadly circle began. Her arm moved faster and faster as the sling whirled . . . and then on the downward pass, her wrist snapped forward, launching the missile . . . and striking her target with lethal force. She barely paused to savour her victory as the child-slayer went down, dead before he hit the ground, with the back of his skull crushed from the sheer force of the blow. Even as the others spun on their heel to find where the strike had come from, she was reloaded and swinging once more as she backed away to give herself room to flee if they came at her. She cast a wary eye around her as she retreated – it seemed that no one else was taking any notice of her . . . yet. Switching her gaze back, she saw them staring back at her in slack-jawed amazement, disbelieving that the sudden surprise attack came from a child barely older than the one that they had just witnessed being savagely murdered by one of their own as they urged him on.

 _Snap_! Another metallic projectile was launched, as they flinched and went to duck away in panic – too late. One more soldier was down, writhing and clutching at his chest in agony as he choked out a plea to his fellow soldiers for aid, to no avail. Even as they gathered around him, he was drawing his last breaths, choking on his own blood as he sputtered and gasped. Her aim was deadly accurate, hitting the left side of his chest over his heart, and shattering three of his ribs, one of them had pierced through his heart and lung – he was a dead man, even if it took his body a little while to catch up to that fact. They watched his death-throes in a sort of horrified stupor, until the sharp squeal from another of their steadily-diminishing group shocked them from their daze. The wounded man was knocked forward, falling flat on his face as he reached over his shoulder with his hand, reflexively trying to clutch at the site of his torment.

    The blow had taken him in the middle of the back, breaking his spine in two places, as he arched in agony and clawed at his back even as he fell, howling in pain. The tumble forward certainly didn't help matters, jarring his back as he landed. He wasn't dead – but he might have preferred it if he had been – he was paralysed, unable to move his lower body as he screeched loudly. Now the others were starting to get angry, spinning around to fix their tiny tormentor with vicious glares as they spread out to try flanking her and began to advance on her position. One called out over his shoulder for assistance from other scattered bands of soldiers in the area . . . feminine screams and pleas for mercy were echoing from the forests around the crossing, mingling with ugly laughter and taunts from the soldiers tormenting their captives within, suggesting that raiding, destruction and murder wasn't the only thing on this filthy rabble's minds on this terrible night.

    Ma`at was backing away swiftly, her eyes flickering around the area in search of a quick exit before she could be cornered by the menacing thugs, their faces now split by ugly, toothy grins as other armed men came to see what all the yelling was about. On seeing the havoc wreaked upon their own, and all apparently by this one tiny little female – armed only with a sling – the air in the clearing was thickened with an ugly new blend of emotions as they concentrated their collective attention on the child now attempting to escape their hostile intent. The animalistic squeals and grunts echoing from the woods around them only added a decidedly predatory edge to their unwavering focus on her, a terrible, unwholesome lust now hung in the air like the smoke from the fires . . . a thick, toxic cloud. A need to cause harm, to break her pure, defiant spirit.

    She was far too young to understand the full horror of precisely what they had intended for her, but she did know that it was time to leave – now. Her opportunity came when a sudden clamour arose in the forest, shouts of fury and frustration from several men as they crashed through the trees, apparently in hot pursuit of something – or someone. As every head swung towards the sounds as they listened, and heard what seemed to be the quarry coming towards them, Ma`at ducked low and darted away into the clouds of smoke, managing to hide herself in the shadows of a cluster of burning carts just as a heavily dishevelled being all but flew out of the trees, nearly tripping and falling over a protruding root lying in the path of their flight. Managing to pick themselves up, they stood upright . . . and Ma`at inhaled sharply – it was Cynara Skelapinis, Melania's eldest daughter. She was bloodied and bruised, with her dress torn and hanging off her in shreds, and limping very badly from what appeared to be severe injuries inflicted to her thighs and stomach. The twelve-year-old girl was doubled over, whimpering gutturally in pain, while her arms folded protectively over her lower belly. She was looking back over her shoulder in panic, her attitude that of a hunted animal, as the sounds of her pursuers grew ever closer.

    Turning her head forward to flee once more, she was brought up short by the sight of all the soldiers standing there in the clearing, their eyes fixed on her, surrounded by the previous victims of their rampage as well as the still-burning carts. Her lips quivered in shock as her pretty blue eyes – blackened and swollen from heavy blows to her face – widened as much as they could in terror. Like a doe held at bay, surrounded by hungry wolves, her body trembled in fear and resignation at her impending doom . . . and then her eyes lit on the small form of Ma`at, peering out at her from the cover of her hiding place, green eyes wide in dismay at witnessing her bedraggled and injured state. "Ma`at? No, no!" Cynara's eyes darted around, taking in everything; from the deadly sling now lying limp and seeming harmless in Ma`at's grasp, to the dead and wounded soldiers on the ground with wounds suggesting that the braided cord had been put to good use tonight.

    "Where are you, little bird . . . ?" the taunting, sing-song voice rang out from close by within the forest, sending an icy chill down Ma`at's spine as she watched Cynara stiffen in dread at the rough tones. ". . . You ran away without saying goodbye . . . it was very rude . . . and Tomas has something he would very much like to discuss with you – after that nasty little peck you gave him!" the caller continued, by the sounds of things, he was almost there. And then he was, along with two other men, presumably the one with the imprint of someone's – Cynara's? – teeth on his bleeding jaw had to be the Tomas that the speaker was referring to, highly likely given the ugly scowl he directed towards Cynara's visibly shuddering form.

    "Little bird!" The man in the centre spread his arms wide as his face split into a chilling grin. All three of these men were spattered with blood, with the largest stains appearing to cover the top half of their breeches. Tomas abruptly stalked forward as Cynara shrank back in fear, until a sudden whistle of air sounded in their ears. That was all the warning that they received, however, before Tomas just dropped in his tracks, like a puppet with its strings cut, as Cynara shrieked in surprise at seeing his forehead unexpectedly cave in like a rotten tomato being squeezed in the hands.

    Her head snapped around, along with everyone else's, as Ma`at started swinging yet again and let the projectile loose – this one crashing straight into the still-grinning teeth of the bastard who had been jeering at Cynara as he and his fellows chased her into the clearing. Cynara was quick to take advantage of everyone else's distraction at his choking for breath as the coin lodged itself firmly in the back of his throat. She beckoned to Ma`at as she took to her heels and fled, angling for the biggest gaps she could find in the loosely clustered groups. Her difficulty in running saw Ma`at swiftly catch up to her, and take over her lead in their battle to evade their assailants.

    The thick pall of smoke in the air, as well as their smaller, nimbler sizes in comparison to the larger, bulkier men weighed down by their heavy military uniforms, helped them to make it into the cover of the trees without too much hindrance, and from there they  _ran_. Neither had any idea of where they were, or where they were going, or if they were only heading straight into another trap, and it didn't matter . . . because they weren't about to give up . . .

* * *

_Her mind came back to the present, her eyes clearing and focussing on Eiríkr's deathly pale face as his fingers tightened around hers, nearly to the point of pain. His skin was blanched in horror, his grey eyes burning in the whiteness of his face as he simply stared at her, utterly speechless. She closed her eyes and swallowed heavily in realisation – as her mind went back in time she must have been recounting those memories out loud so that he could hear . . . she hadn't meant to! Her eyes flashed open once more as she heard a soft step from behind Eiríkr, his head turning as they both stared at Ione standing before them, her expression stricken. Eiríkr and Ma`at shared a fleeting look – how much had she heard?_

    " _Little pearl . . ." she whispered, tears rising in her dark eyes, ". . . You saw that? What they did to those poor people?" Eiríkr's face was grim – clearly she had heard enough. He rubbed his hand around the back of his neck, exhaling roughly as he stood up, still holding his little sister's hand as she stared glumly at the floor, refusing to look at them. He raised his free hand as Ione went to speak again, halting her words. He only shook his head as she looked at him in question, 'Not now . . .' his eyes told her, 'Not today.' She bowed her head slightly in acquiescence, seeing the wisdom in not pushing her sister for answers she didn't want to give. Their eyes turned towards the bed, gazing at the little girls nestled peacefully into the covers, remembering Ma`at's halting words and haunted, faraway stare as she recalled the tragic and callous murder of the girl at the crossing, a child no older than their own babes were now – how could anyone do such a terrible thing? There were no answers. And as for this other girl, this Cynara . . . their eyes met in grim realisation at what that poor young girl had clearly suffered, along with the other women captured and assaulted in the woods by those vile monsters masquerading as honourable soldiers._

_He sighed. "It is getting late. The sun will rise soon enough, and I need to go hunting. I had intended to leave earlier . . ." Ma`at's golden head lifted slowly, her green eyes meeting his soft grey stare as he smiled down at her tenderly, squeezing her fingers in reassurance, ". . . But I could not let the opportunity to speak to my little sister go astray, after not having seen her for such a long time," he finished. Ma`at's answering smile was small, but genuine, as he released her hand to walk over to his bow, hanging on the wall out of the twins' reach, alongside the quiver filled with the arrows he would need for his hunting trip._

    " _Can I come with you?" His head spun to look back at her over his shoulder in surprise at her eager question, as Ione's brow lifted in shock._

    " _You want to go hunting? With me?" He wasn't ashamed to admit that he was gaping slightly at her . . . not many females ever wanted much to do with hunting, let alone were even trained to do so . . . which raised another question. "Do you know how?" Ione spun on her heel, hands propped on her hips as both females glared at him blackly. Taken aback, he raised his hands placatingly. "Alright, peace! Obviously, I forgot that I was talking to a Thessalias," he knew that Zafira had been very skilful herself in wielding the bow-and-arrow, as well as many other weapons used in hunting, and she and Leandros had seen to it that all of the children under their care – Andrus, himself, Ione, and Ma`at – would learn the use of such tools early on in their life in order to be able to hunt, track and defend themselves. Prior to leaving Al-Andalus, Eiríkr had even been passing on the skills that he had learned from Leandros to his little sister, helping to guide her little hands as she held a small knife and practiced jabbing it into the air, pretending that she was stabbing an imaginary enemy._

 _Ma`at reached into her tunic, pulling out the sling to show him, waggling it in the air triumphantly. "Abbi made it for me!" she crowed gleefully, yet still quietly, as she didn't wish to disturb her nieces before they were ready to get up for the day. She smiled widely, before her face fell a little as she remembered . . . as they all did. Eiríkr cleared his throat noisily, swallowing hard against the lump of grief that threatened to rise up and choke him – it wasn't fair! Leandros and Zafira gone for over a year and a half, and Ma`at left to fend for herself nearly all that time at the tender age of five, and they hadn't even known! They had received a reply to the letter that they'd sent to inform their family of Ione's safe delivery of the twins only a year ago, but it was dated from May of 992. Any correspondence between Al-Andalus and the New World was dependent on so many factors – crossing the Atlántico was perilous . . . many ships never made it, being sunk in wild storms or running off-course and getting lost, never to be heard from again; and the overland journey that still had to be made from the port of al-Lix_ _būna to al-Gulawesi, and vice-versa, without the letters being intercepted by the spies and informants of Al-Mansur._

 _Ione and_ _Eiríkr had been surprised, happily so, to find that their parents had chosen to take the risk of responding, speaking of their joy at becoming grandparents after all this time. Even Ma`at had been given the opportunity to write a few sentences on the parchment, her childish, painstakingly written script wishing all of them well and speaking of her hope to see them all again in the future. Ione had wept, even as she smiled joyfully, upon seeing that – how she missed her parents and the little sister that she hadn't seen since Ma`at was less than two years of age, clinging solemnly to her mother's skirts as she watched Ione and Eiríkr ride away, departing for their journey to the New World. Eiríkr had been in no better state, wiping furiously at his wet eyes as he stalked outside the cabin, possibly to spend a little bit of time chopping wood for the fire and working to regain his usual composure. It was hard, being so far away from everyone that they loved, but they had little choice._

 _It wasn't Eiríkr's fault that he was born as the son of a man who had led a band of Viking marauders on a quest to invade and conquer the Qur_ _ṭ_ _uban Khilāfat, as he sought to remove the governing Islamists from power . . ._

* * *

    . . . Ránnulfr the Bloody, also known as Ránnulfr the Red, had left a lasting impression upon the people of Al-Andalus. He had been an utter bastard by all accounts – Ástriðr, Eiríkr's own mother, had certainly never had anything good to say of the man. The tall, pretty redhead had been a Norsewoman, who was taken captive in one of Ránnulfr's raids in the Northern lands, and kept as his reluctant concubine in his hometown of Hedeby. She had been one of the many thralls and concubines chosen to serve the Danish raider's needs along the journey into the Khilāfat in 969, on his quest to conquer it and rule the Empire – a ruthless and brutal campaign that had dragged on for years, in which time Ástriðr had fallen pregnant and given birth to her son, Eiríkr, a mere two years before Ránnulfr was finally defeated outside the city of Pamplona in 974.

    Ránnulfr was not executed, only banished from ever setting foot in Al-Andalus again. Many of his surviving sons, including Eiríkr, were taken as wards of the Qurṭuban Khilāfat to act as hostages against the possibility of Ránnulfr breaking the peace-pact. Most of them were sent to live directly in Qurṭuba as the direct dependants of Khalīfah Al-Hakam II, while the others were divided between the noble families of various provinces. Eiríkr was assigned as the dependant of Ibrahim ibn Bakir, the Governor of Saraqusta in the Upper March of the Khilāfat. Ibrahim was swift to delegate the responsibility to his brother-within-the-law, Leandros Thessalias; Commander of the assorted militia who had been instrumental in breaking through the lines of Ránnulfr's remaining hordes of Viking invaders in the final battle. Married to Zafira bint Bakir – Ibrahim's sister – with a son aged at six years and another child on the way, surely he was the best man for the job, Ibrahim had exclaimed to Leandros while clapping him on the back heartily in encouragement. Ibn Bakir's enthusiasm may have had something to do with his aversion to dealing directly with weeping women, as Ástriðr was devastated at the impending separation from her only child.

    Zafira would have none of that – she marched over to the woman and told her off roundly, deriding the other female's lack of backbone and intelligence fiercely . . . Eiríkr would be staying, there was simply no way to avoid that consequence of his father's stupidity, she declared . . . but though Ránnulfr was banished from Al-Andalus, Ástriðr was not. If she chose not to return to her homeland in the Northern Kingdoms, then she was free to remain here with her son.

    And so it was that their rather unconventional family had returned to her father's ancestral hometown of al-Gulawesi in the Lower March territories. Ástriðr, unfortunately, had fallen prey to the sweating sickness some three years later. She did not survive.

    Years later, they had received word from Ibrahim that Ránnulfr the Red was on his deathbed and that his son, Bjorn the Black, was named as his heir. It seemed that Bjorn shared his father's ambitions – it was whispered that he intended to carry forward his father's dream of the subjugation of the Qurṭuban Khilāfat. Eiríkr had not seen his father since he was a very small child and he had never met his half-brother Bjorn at all, yet it seemed as if he would be the one to pay the ultimate price for their sins, and be executed as an example by the order of Khalīfah Hisham II, alongside his other half-brothers.

    Ibrahim had been swift to take pre-emptive action on the behalf of Eiríkr Ránnulfsson, who was still officially listed as his ward, writing to the Khalīfah directly in the capital city of Qurṭuba to plead clemency for the young man. His efforts had finally paid off, when he had received an official pardon adorned with the royal seal of Hisham II, and he quickly sent word to his sister and her family. Leandros and Zafira had bid Ione and Eiríkr to marry in haste, and make preparations to leave – in these times of political turmoil, not even the word of the Khalīfah himself could be taken for granted.

    They had agreed, and the plan was set. Soon after marrying, they took their leave of Ione's parents and her little sister, who was barely more than a babe, far too young to understand why her sister and the redheaded man that she thought of as her brother were leaving . . .

* * *

_That was over four years ago now, and they had managed to build a life here, a home, and a family. Ione was the one to clear her throat this time, snapping the others out of their gloomy contemplation of the past, and smiling resolutely – it was more than enough for now, they had other things to be getting on with today than sitting around crying for their lost loved ones. She clapped her hands briskly, "I think she can use it, my love," looking to her husband, "Considering that she made it here, after all." Gazing at her sister with a smile, she asked her, "Are you sure you wish to go with him today? You can stay here and have breakfast with me and the girls if you would like to," Ma`at cast a glance at the peacefully dozing children, tempted to stay and get to know her little nieces, but . . . she shook her head reluctantly._

    " _Tomorrow?" she requested, staring up at her older sister with pleading eyes. Eiríkr exchanged an intent look with his wife . . . her words carried a special, hidden meaning for them – it was Ma`at's way of promising them that she intended to stay, at least a little longer – she would still be with them the next day, not slipping away in the night. Ione nodded to her sister in agreement, and smiled. Ma`at tugged at her borrowed tunic with a slight frown. "I cannot go hunting in this, I will trip over and fall . . . and all the animals will be scared away."_

_Eiríkr snorted with laughter, as Ma`at eyed him narrowly. He held up his hands as he got himself back under control. "Well, now I know for certain, that the two of you are sisters," he grinned as Ione glared at him, hands on hips again. "Because that is exactly what she said when we first came here – she caused quite a scandal the first time some of the original settlers caught a glimpse of her striding around in nothing more than a pair of my old breeches and a short tunic . . . I thought one old woman was actually going to faint!" Ione rolled her eyes, smiling reluctantly at the memory, as Ma`at giggled at the thought._

_Ione beckoned her over to the chest beside the bed, as she opened it up and began to dig through, searching for – "Hah!" she pulled the pants out and waved her sister forward to measure them up against her small body. They were far too big, of course, as these pants were made with Ione's tall frame as a fifteen-year-old woman in mind, while Ma`at was not yet seven and rather small for her age. It didn't matter – Ma`at quickly stepped into the breeches as Ione held them out for her, and they set to work rolling up the legs until Ma`at could finally stand up on her own bare feet. She pulled up the bottom of the tunic enough to slip her hand underneath and untied the cord that she had wrapped around her hips. Ione fingered the sheath attached to one side as Ma`at busied herself threading the rope through the waistline of her new pants to keep them firmly tucked in instead of loose enough to fall down around her ankles when not secured. Seeing Ione's preoccupation with the scabbard, she reached down and plucked it from her makeshift belt and offered it to her sister._

_Ione turned it over in her hands a few times, examining it curiously, before she placed her hand on the metal hilt at the end and pulling slowly. She gasped as she saw the blade slide clear of the cover – where on earth had her sister come by a dagger like this? She reluctantly decided not to delay the hunting expedition any longer by asking for an explanation, so she handed it back to Ma`at with an expression that told her that they were most assuredly going to have a serious conversation about Ma`at's life on the run . . . soon. "Very well, my little pearl, just remember to be careful as there are many dangerous creatures out there in the forest, and listen to Eiríkr," she shook her finger sternly at Ma`at, bidding her to listen to her admonitions. "He knows these woods well, and he understands where it is safe to go."_

    " _I will, Io." Ma`at gazed up at her seriously, nodding to affirm her promise to heed her brother-within-the-law's every word. Ione walked out with them, bidding them farewell from the steps, as they crossed the clearing and went into the woods. It was time to hunt._

* * *

    " _Well . . . that was fun." Eiríkr's sardonic comment was all it took for Ma`at's composure to break down completely. She burst into laughter, great whoops of slightly hysterical glee and relief spilling out of her throat, as she sagged against the trunk of the towering spruce that they were currently perched rather precariously in, on a very high branch that creaked ominously every time Eiríkr's weight shifted as he tried to get his balance on the slippery wood. His deep, throaty chuckles joined her high-pitched peals as he felt the adrenaline and fear of the last few minutes slipping away. His laughter was somewhat hoarse and he wheezed a little as he was still struggling to catch his breath back after their mad dash through the forest, with an annoyed –_ and hungry _– black bear on their tails._

_He shook his head wryly, and winced as the wood shuddered under his bulk . . . this really wasn't the safest roost for them, although – as he peered downwards at the frustrated animal as it clawed at the trunk and bellowed in aggravation at them for having climbed out of his reach – he found that he was definitely in favour of their rather uncertain position in this tree . . . splinters and all . . . to the thought of being in range of that bear's teeth and claws. Still . . . "Do you suppose . . . ?" he tilted his head at the branch above his head, broader and sturdier than the one they were resting on at the moment, and she considered it carefully. She nodded, and cautiously stood up while he remained absolutely still, silently praying that the branch wouldn't decide to give way just as they were about to climb off._

_Ma`at leapt up, clinging to the broad limb as she clambered on and straddled it quickly, scooting backwards to give him room to manoeuvre himself onto the branch. He was swift in doing so, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when he was finally secure. For a moment back there, he hadn't been sure that they would escape, especially when the damned beast had actually begun climbing the tree after them! The big brute had finally surrendered his pursuit once one of the branches he'd settled his weight on to continue scrambling up the spruce behind them had snapped, sending him tumbling some thirty feet back down to the ground as he roared in surprised protest, crashing through the limbs and leaves, until he came down to earth with a resounding thud._

_Given the way that he continued to circle the tree, occasionally vaulting up onto his back legs and giving the base of the trunk a hearty shove with his front paws – as though he thought he might be able to topple the massive forest giant over with sheer brute force – Eiríkr thought that they might be here for a while until the creature finally decided to give up and go on his way. "So . . ." he stared at Ma`at in query as she smirked at him, raising a cynical eyebrow, ". . . You understand where it is safe to go in these woods . . . ?" His cheeks reddened in mingled embarrassment and ire as she quoted her sister's words from earlier this morning back to him with heavy disbelief._

    " _Shut up!" he muttered irritably, shifting his weight awkwardly on the wood as he tried to imagine just how he was going to explain to his beloved wife that, on the very first day after her miraculous arrival on their doorstep, he'd nearly allowed her little sister to be mauled by a bear! He groaned under his breath, grumbling direly to himself, as he envisioned her towering wrath at the account of their death-defying experience with the beast. He bent over the side of the branch to peer down, noting that the bear had been silent for some time now . . . it was gone. Apparently, he had at last lost interest in trying to bring the whole tree down to get to them, and had ambled off back into the woods in search of easier prey. "Oh, gods be praised!" he muttered, rolling his eyes heavenwards in relief. "Now . . . getting down ought to be amusing," quirking his brows at Ma`at as she snorted at his dry sarcasm._

_In order to climb out of the bear's reach, they'd had to ascend nearly three-quarters of the way up the tree, almost seventy feet. Eiríkr's eyes nearly crossed as he peered over the side of the branch again, measuring the distance between the ground and their current position. He was NOT looking forward to the descent – along with arachnids, heights were something he preferred to avoid if at all possible. Making sure to avoid the unstable limb just beneath them, they began their descent, going back down with a great deal more care than they'd shown when climbing up. Once they had made it to the last branch before descending to the ground, they stopped to look around warily, listening for anything that might indicate that the bear had returned or that another predator might be lurking in the thick of the forest. Nothing._

    " _Alright, let us go . . . now." Eirikr jumped the last eight feet, bending his knees lightly as he landed, before turning and holding out his arms for Ma`at as she leapt down to him, trusting him to catch her. Once she was back on her own two feet, they set off briskly back towards the village, not wanting to linger in the area any longer than necessary. She looked back over her shoulder with a slight frown as a thought occurred to her._

    " _Should we get the traps?"_

    " _No."_

    " _But-"_

    " _-_ No _, Marta. Not today. I do not have my sword or my axe, and arrows are not enough, not against a bear of that size. If he has decided to make a den in this area, to claim it as his territory, then we will have to warn the Elders in the village to keep the hunters away from here. They may decide to declare this place off-limits for now, or send a hunting party in to scare the beast away from this area."_

    " _Oh."_

    " _Anyway, I think we have hunted enough for a little while. That white-tailed buck will keep us in meat for a month, let alone the quail!" he grinned at her proudly, as she beamed at the reminder of their success earlier that morning, before Eirikr had decided that he wanted to check the fishing traps he had set up in a nearby pond. This was where they had come upon the bear fishing for_ his  _breakfast. Thankfully, they had chosen to hang their previous kills – a five-point buck, taken down by a well-placed rock hurled from Ma`at's sling, along with four quail they had discovered hiding in the long grass of a small meadow – over a high branch in a tree before they went to check on his traps._

_She had flushed the quail out towards the direction where he lay in wait, quickly dispatching them with his bow. One arrow had actually taken two of them in one shot, as the pair had attempted to escape together, with one just behind the other as he loosed the arrow._

_They found the tree, relieved to find the deer and the birds were still hanging in place, unmolested by scavengers. Eirikr slung the buck across his shoulders, grunting a little under the weight as he settled it into place, while Ma`at picked up the string that the quail had been tied to by their legs to make them easier to carry. It was time to go home for breakfast – and oh, what a tale they had to tell!_

* * *

_That buck wasn't exactly small, Eirikr reflected as he rested his back up against the thickened, gnarled root of the tall cypress. They were probably only about a mile from the cabin, but they decided to sit down and rest for a little while beside the banks of the tiny creek, just enjoying the fresh air and the peaceful silence of the woods. He caught Ma`at glancing at him from the corner of her eyes . . . it wasn't the first time. Clearly, there was something on her mind . . . "What is it, Marta?" she turned to look at him fully, and his half-smile faded as he saw the deadly serious expression in her eyes._

    " _When I came to the cabin last night, and knocked on the doors . . ."_

    " _. . . Yes, I remember."_

    " _. . ."_

    " _Marta, please, tell me what is wrong."_

    " _You were angry, you had your sword and you were coming to the door . . . Ione came after you, and then it was quiet . . . but I heard something . . ."_

_He gazed at her for a while, but she said nothing else, only turning her head to stare out over the water. She was straddling one of the lower branches of the cypress, having climbed up as he sat down on the grass to rest. He cast his mind back to that point in time from the previous night . . ._

* * *

    . . . He was quick in picking up his sword where it lay in its sheath next to his feet. Slipping it free of the cover, he went stiff as Ione hissed in shock . . . he had heard the tapping as well, every door and shutter rattling at the same time. He bared his teeth in a grim smile as he went for the door . . . if these intruders wanted a fight, they had one coming! Ione had trotted after him, catching his arm before he went more than a few steps, holding up her hand in a signal for him to wait as she closed her eyes. Knowing the signs of her using her magic, he shifted his feet slightly and looked over her shoulder towards the bed where the girls were asleep.

    His heart clenched in fear – he would never allow anything to happen to his family . . . not as long as he lived! Her eyes flickered open with a sudden gasp as her hand went to her throat and she frowned. His eyes narrowed in rage . . . obviously, whatever was out there had frightened her badly . . . so be it. He went to wrench the door open and storm outside to wreak havoc on his foes, but she laid her hand on his arm once more. Her head shook in denial as he stared back over his shoulder in disbelief – what was she doing? She mouthed a word, "One," and held up a single finger in affirmation. She then waved her hand towards the bed, telling him silently to go to the twins.

    He glared at her blackly, surely she wasn't serious? Apparently she was, as her eyes asked that question that all husbands dreaded from their wives, 'Do you trust me?'

    'It was not a matter of trust, but safety!' his eyes said back as he scowled at her. She only smiled serenely. Rolling his eyes, he submitted with ill-grace. Women! She walked around him to reach for the bolt, only to be brought up short with a quickly stifled squeal of indignation, as he took advantage of her turned back to swing the flat side of his sword against her backside smartly. Ah, satisfaction . . .

* * *

 _Uh-oh! He cringed slightly as he considered exactly what his little sister would have heard last night . . . and given her past, the kind of conclusions that she must have drawn from their – no, HIS – behaviour. His cheeks went rather pale, and he ran his hand shakily down his face as he struggled to compose himself, to find the right words – but what could he say? Oh, GODS . . ._ please _, he prayed, give him the strength to do this right, to not frighten away this little girl that he loved so much. He exhaled shakily, raking his fingers through his long hair roughly before he raised his head to look up at her. "There are . . . there are NO words that can express how sorry I am for how I must have frightened you last night . . . growling at you . . ."_

    " _Eirikr, you were protecting your family . . . how could you have known who was at your door last night? It could have been anyone!" she exclaimed fiercely, shaking her head in denial of his need to apologise over something as understandable as his need to defend the ones he loved._

_He smiled wanly at that, a smile that was more of a grimace as he shifted uncomfortably on the ground. "Thank you for that . . . for being so kind . . . I know that I do not really deserve your compassion, at least not until you hear the truth about last night – but, that cannot come from me," she just gazed at him in confusion, why could he not explain to her? It was one of the reasons that she had come with him this morning, away from the cabin, to ask him for the truth. "It means nothing if it comes from me, little pearl, do you not see? I could say anything, anything at all, so how can you trust in my word?" he stared up at her, his lips twisting in self-loathing. "After what you said this morning, about what happened to those girls, to all those people, at the hands of those miserable excuses for . . ." he broke off his rant, putting his hand over his mouth as his shoulders heaved in mingled anger and sorrow. He fought off the urge to sob at the memory of the anguished expression in her eyes as she unconsciously recounted the horrifying tale of such senseless slaughter._

    " _I never meant to-"_

    " _-I know, my little pearl, I know. But I am glad that you did . . . no matter how awful it was to hear it." Looking out over the creek, he focussed on breathing slowly and deeply, trying to calm his emotions down and think clearly again. "You need to talk to your sister, alone, without the girls or myself being there." His gaze flicked over to her as she screwed up her face uneasily. "Do not be afraid, Marta. Just ask her the same way that you have asked me, she will not be offended – and she would never lie to you." Ma`at sighed and nodded glumly. He smiled at her gently, and racked his brains for a way to change the subject. "Hungry?" he asked her, just as her belly growled in complaint. He pressed his lips together firmly and turned his head away to hide his grin as she crossed her arms over her stomach in embarrassment, blushing hotly._

    " _No!" was the stubborn retort. He couldn't help himself; he snorted at her blatant lie as she blushed even brighter and glared at him snottily, daring him to call her out on it. His shoulders shook in barely suppressed mirth, before he just gave in and let out a great bellow of laughter. Rolling around on the grass, he wheezed and coughed as he held his aching sides and just let the laughter come. A sudden, sharp pain bloomed in his knee as he was chuckling, and he squinted his eyes open to see her standing over him with an impressive scowl contorting her face and her foot drawn back to kick him again. Just as she swung her leg, his hand snapped out and snagged her ankle. A quick tug saw her sprawling right on top of him, as she squawked angrily and jabbed her pointy elbow into his ribs._ OOF _! His breath squeezed out of him as he absorbed the surprisingly hard blow, and he gave her the evil eye . . . she just sneered at him tauntingly – oh, it was on!_

_Over and over, they rolled around on the grass as they wrestled and waged a small battle to see who would come out on top – literally. She let out a breathless whoop of excitement and triumph as she perched on top of his large frame while he panted desperately, both giggling wheezily as they struggled to catch their breath from their energetic tussle. He held his hands out to the side, beaming up at her, as he called jokingly, "Peace, peace! I surrender." She giggled and stood up so that he could sit up again, then her face drooped in discontent as her stomach gurgled again, even louder than before. "Come on, you starving child. I think that we had better feed you, before you get hungry enough to eat this deer – raw!" he teased as he sauntered back over to the cypress, hauling the body of the buck off the exposed root that he'd placed it on while he rested and balancing it back on his shoulders. Ma`at grumbled a bit at her overexcited belly, and grabbed up the tied quails once more as they started walking again._

    " _Do you suppose that Hana and Kaelin will be awake yet?" she asked as they wandered through the trees, heading back towards the house._

    " _Ione will have breakfast almost ready to serve by now," he replied, tilting his head up to peer at the sky musingly. It was barely past dawn, the light filtering through the thick canopy of leaves was soft and muted. "So, yes, the twins will be awake now that the food is ready," he grinned as Ma`at smirked. "And once we have had breakfast," he rolled his eyes in anticipation of the pestering to come, "They will be after me to take them to the fields so that they can 'help me' feed the horses."_

    " _Horses?" Ma`at's eyes gleamed excitedly._

_Eirikr snorted. "Yes, Marta, horses. They run wild here – I have managed to catch a few and tame them for riding . . . hopefully, in a few years, I will be able to breed them and get some foals for trade." She gave him a pleading expression, eyes wide as she pouted playfully. He shook his head in amused exasperation – honestly, every female in his life was horse-mad! If he'd allow it, Ione would spoil that chestnut mare that he'd captured a year ago absolutely rotten. "Marta . . ." he chided light-heartedly, ". . . There is plenty of time for that." He tilted his head significantly at her. "If I take Hana and Kaelin this morning to groom them, then you and Ione will have a chance . . . to talk . . ."_

_She shrugged in assent, before her eyes took on a sudden glint. "Race you to the house?" She took off like lightning, dashing through the trees as he sputtered in surprise, before he pulled himself together and ran after her as her taunting laughter rang through the air._

    " _OI! GET BACK HERE, YOU CHEATING URCHIN! I DEMAND A RESTART!" Their laughter echoed in the forest as they raced along, Ma`at was always going to win – not only had she given herself a decent head-start, she was also incredibly fast and nimble as she dodged around trees and bushes in her way. Reaching the edge of the clearing, she looked back over her shoulder as she heard him crashing through the undergrowth. He came into sight, panting a bit as he jostled the carcass over his shoulders back into position. Pulling up beside her, he sniffed at the air appreciatively. "Ah, yes! Just in time for breakfast." He put his hand out in offer, and she slipped her tiny hand into it, as they walked over together._

_Just as they had reached the back door – he had warned her that they were better off going through the back, so that they could wash up in the basin without getting mud and blood all over the house – he paused, turning to look at her seriously. She cocked her head to the side as she stared up at him curiously, a little taken aback at his suddenly solemn demeanour. "Did you mean what you said earlier this morning, Marta?" she only blinked at him in bewilderment. "When you told Ione that you wished to spend tomorrow with her and the girls?" he pressed on, squatting in front of her so that their eyes were level. Her eyes cleared, as she finally understood what he was truly asking her – would she stay with them? Or did she intend to leave them, to walk away from her family?_

_Breathing in deeply, her shoulders slumped a little as she stared all around her – from the quiet freedom promised by the forest that surrounded the small village, to the homes that she could see. These houses would have people inside of them, families, and she flinched at the thought. People meant noise, and talking, and being around others that she didn't know, or trust, people that would be curious about the new arrival and would want to know everything about her. People could be dangerous – she knew that better than most – and she hadn't forgotten about the Darkness that she'd sensed the previous evening. Could she risk it? "I . . . I want to-"_

    " _-I know that you are afraid, Marta. I was afraid, too. When I woke up this morning, and I did not see you in the bed beside me, I feared that we had already lost you, that we would never see you again. I – WE – do not want to lose you . . . we want you to stay, to make a home here with us, to be safe." His eyes pleaded with her as she bit her lip indecisively. She hadn't told them everything – perhaps, once she did, they might change their minds when they realised what manner of danger her presence in this place could bring to their doorstep._

    " _I was hunted, in Al-Andalus. They wanted my magic . . . they chased me . . . it seemed that it would never end, never stop until I was caught . . . for a time, I believed that it was over, that I was going to die . . ."_

    " _You are not the only one who is being hunted, little sister." Their eyes met as he interrupted her halting words, as she tried to explain the risk that they were taking in trying to protect her from those who would give anything – sacrifice everything – and stop at nothing, in order to get their hands on her . . . wishing to enslave her, to bind her power and her will to use for their own ends. He shook his head and half-smiled as she frowned at him, puzzled. "Have you forgotten so quickly? I am pursued, also, for nothing more than the accident of my birth . . ." his mouth twisted in contempt, ". . . For being the bastard son of_ _Ránnulfr the Red, I will be chased until the end of my days, until they can bring my head back to Al-Mansur and inform him that I was duly executed for the heinous crime of being related to an Oath-breaker, a sworn enemy of the_ _Khilāfat." He threw his shoulders back proudly, his head held high and straight as he gazed at her unflinchingly. "And I say – let them come. If that is to be my fate – then so be it. Maybe they will find us here, in time, but before that . . . before they come for my head; I will live each day as it comes. I am not afraid of dying, little pearl, my only fear is that I will let the dread of the future overcome me and forget that all we have is today – all we have is now._

    " _No man shall live forever, we must make the most of the time that we have . . ." he took her hand in his, squeezing gently as he willed her to see the reasoning in his words, ". . . We must LIVE before we die, so that we have no regrets about what we leave behind . . ."_

    " _. . . The legacy that we leave to our family is the will to carry on, the strength and the courage to shape their own destiny, to honour the traditions of the past . . ."_

    " _. . . And to forge new paths for the future, to make their own mark upon the world as they nurture and teach the next generation to do the same," they finished together, smiling at the thought of the oft-repeated maxim, learned at the knee of Leandros Thessalias. He had lived by those words, Ma`at knew . . . and he had died by them, along with her mother. They had sent her away in the hope that she would be safe – that she would be able to find her sister in the New World, and together, they would live to carry on their family line into the future. Eirikr was right, she thought, there was danger everywhere . . . for everyone. LIFE was dangerous . . . it did not mean that you were not supposed to live at all._

_His grey eyes gleamed in triumph as he watched her mouth twist wryly in acknowledgement of his logic. She only shook her head in fond exasperation as he threw his head back and laughed joyfully. "Then so be it, little sister. We shall live for the day!" They shook hands solemnly to seal their bargain, and he stopped short suddenly as he thought of something else. "A challenge for you then, Marta . . ." he paused, as her eyes kindled in interest and anticipation of his next words. His eyes softened, and he cradled her cheek in his hand as he looked down at her lovingly, ". . . I think Ione would agree with me when I say that what we really wish for you is that you will come to know all the joys of life, and so . . . I challenge you to seek out all the things that will bring you pleasure and excitement, to be bold, and fearless, and to never back down from taking what you want from life – I dare you to be happy."_

* * *

September 2009 

Mystic Falls 

    Her awakening was slow and serene, as she floated out of the dream with a smile on her face . . . until she became fully aware, and her face twisted in distaste. "Ugh! Stupid dreams!" she muttered to the ceiling above her, as she fought with herself – once upon a time, she had been something of an idealist, before war and bloodshed and betrayal had beaten such notions out of her. It wasn't quite so easy as her dream made it seem – to blithely dismiss any worries about tomorrow, and just seize the moment and live for the day . . . she had tried, and she felt like every single time that she had reached out for happiness – with Cedric, and Sirius, Remus and Tonks and everyone else – that it was stripped away, stolen from her grasp by treachery and death.

    "Dare you to be happy . . . yeah, right!" she snorted, rolling over and burying her head in the pillows, as she tried to go back to sleep – without dreams, this time. It wasn't time –

 _RING! RING! RING!_ That stupid bloody alarm! "OH, PISS OFF!"  _Thud!_ That might have been her alarm-clock falling on the floor . . . completely by accident, of course . . . it  _definitely_ had NOT been helped along with a hefty nudge from anyone's elbow . . . "Stupid bloody high-school!"

* * *

 

**Definitions**

Ghūl (Arabic): Ghoul. Can also refer to a demon who preys on young children, a blood-drinker.

Khāl (Arabic): Maternal uncle.

Al-Mansur: actual historical figure, better known as Almanzor. Born Muhammad ibn Abi Aamir in around 938, he became a powerful political figure in the court of Khalīfah Al-Hakam II as one of his advisors. When the Caliph died in 976, Al-Mansur was instrumental in ensuring the succession of Hisham II, a twelve-year-old boy, to the throne. He extended his political influence over the state, isolating the young Caliph, and reducing him to the role of a 'puppet king' as he - Al-Mansur - became the  _de facto_  ruler of the nation. Al-Andalus hit its peak of political power as a nation during the years of his rule, but was in decline as time went on, with political turmoil tearing the country apart. To make matters worse, his strategy of continuous campaigns against the Christian kingdoms, while victorious, had the effect of uniting them against him and Al-Andalus. His death in 1002 is considered by many to have been the death-knell for the Islamic leadership over Al-Andalus.

Ránnulfr the Red/Ránnulfr the Bloody: my invented character (as far as I know). A Viking of Danish origin, with ambitions that included the conquest of Al-Andalus. Eirikr Ránnulfsson's father.

Qurṭuba (Arabic): modern-day Cordoba in Spain. The capital city of Al-Andalus during the medieval period.

Khalīfah (Arabic): Caliph. The king, sultan, emperor. The guy who ruled it all.

Hisham II: actual historical figure. The Caliph of Cordoba from 976 - 1008; 1010 - 1012.

Khilāfat or Qurṭuban Khilāfat (Arabic): Caliphate or Cordoban Caliphate. Al-Andalus was the name of the nation, Khilāfat Qurṭuba was the reference to the Islamic state: the Caliph ruled over the country from his royal seat in Cordoba.

al-Lixbūna (Arabic): modern-day Lisbon in Portugal.

Océano Atlántico (Spanish): Atlantic Ocean.

Batalyaws (Arabic): modern-day Badajoz in Spain.

Saraqusta (Arabic): modern-day Zaragoza in Spain.

Andrus Thessalias: the son of Leandros and Zafira Thessalias, and the older brother of Ione and Ma`at Thessalias. He was born in 968. While serving as a soldier in the Imperial Army of Cordoba, he is believed to have been killed during a battle in 987 with the armies of the Christian Kingdoms to the north of Al-Andalus. His body was never recovered: his ultimate fate is unknown.

Ástriðr (Norwegian): Astrid, a female name of Norse origin meaning 'divine beauty'. Eirikr Ránnulfsson's mother.

Al-Hakam II: actual historical figure. The Caliph of Cordoba from 961 - 976.

Ibrahim ibn Bakir: my invented character (as far as I know). The twin brother (older) of Zafira bint Bakir.  _Ibn_  means son in Arabic, and  _Bint_  means daughter in Arabic, therefore Ibrahim and Zafira are the son and daughter of Bakir ibn Musad, another OC.

Upper March: Al-Andalus was divided into territories - the Upper March (capital Zaragoza), the Middle March (capital Toledo), and the Lower March (capital initially Merida, then transferred to Badajoz). Each March was overseen by territorial Governors, and in certain periods of political strife between the Governors and the ruling dynasty of Cordoba, the Governors essentially ruled their territories as kings, separate from the Emirate and Caliphate states.

Bjorn the Black: my invented character (as far as I know). Eirikr's older half-brother - for the purpose of my story, the reason that Bjorn was not taken as a hostage when his father was banished, was because he did not accompany Ránnulfr to Al-Andalus when Ránnulfr launched his campaign in 969, therefore he could not be seized as many of his other half-brothers were, Eirikr amongst them.

**Hope that helps. Till next chapter :)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: So *ducks behind a wall* how good/bad/ugly was it? Not really sure what you're all gonna think of this one, but . . . oh, well, here it is. Please review?  
> Also, this is the second last chapter to be posted before I am all caught up to where I am on ff.net with this fic, so, once I post the tenth chapter, updates will be posted once a fortnight, the same as ff.net.  
> Hope you don't hate this chapter too much . . . I hated having to write certain parts of it, but it's necessary for my storyline . . . ah, well. Let me know what you think :)


	10. Chapter 9: Dare You To Be Happy (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School blows . . . but the party rocked - until . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: See first chapter
> 
> A/N: MONSTER CHAPTER WARNING! This big boy tops the scales at 20,000+, so editing has been *a real blast* I think my eyes are about to fall out of their sockets. However, I did promise a couple of my reviewers that I was gonna finish the Pilot episode of V.D. with this chapter, and I do try my best to keep my word. To all of my reviewers, thank you so much. Your words of encouragement make me smile, and in one case, I actually blushed. I'm truly grateful for your kindness.
> 
> Warnings: Pretty tame for this chapter, especially considering the last one, but here goes: references to violence, and mild violence. Mild drug use. Mild swearing - because my characters seem to have very potty mouths, especially Arielle, suggestive language, because apparently my FemHarry has a rather dirty mind ;) descriptions - again, mild - of bodily functions (when you gotta go, you gotta go!) and everyone knows that, when it comes to holding in your wind, it's better out than in :D Allusions to attempted rape, and descriptions of the results of a violent attack - for all of you V.D. fans who have seen the Pilot episode, you probably remember what that's all about.
> 
> I think that's everything - so, I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 9: Dare You to be Happy (Part 2)

**I dare you to be happy,**   
**Hit it**   
**What does it take**   
**Stop me making the same mistake**   
**Now I see, it's not me**   
**What a fool I've been**   
**Yeah Yeah**   
**I'm not ashamed (I am not ashamed)**   
**Everybody can play that game**   
**It's ok, it's one way**   
**And we all survive**

**You talk about my freedom**   
**Talk about my love**   
**Talk about my living**   
**And I know that's not enough**   
**I just want my freedom**   
**I just want to love**   
**I just wanna know that I can have a little fun**

* * *

    Jenna and Elena were sitting in the kitchen, both on their second cups of coffee for the morning, when they heard the car-horn toot outside the house. Elena frowned in puzzlement. "That's not Bonnie's car . . ." was her comment before they heard the stomp of Jeremy's boots as he clattered down the stairs, heading for the door. Jenna hopped up from her seat – she knew that sound! Jeremy was down the driveway, about to jump in the car just as she came out; waving her hand to the driver . . . she was right, it  _was_  Arianna Parrish.

    Ari grinned, waving back, as Jeremy looked back over his shoulder even while he slid into the passenger-side seat. He rolled his eyes a little when he saw his aunt walking over. "What, we don't even rate a goodbye these days, Jeremy?" she winked at Ari when Jeremy just hunched his shoulders defensively and muttered something under his breath. Jenna shrugged, and looked over at the other girl. "Good morning Arianna, how was your first day? I remembered that I didn't get a chance to ask you yesterday."

    "It's high-school." Ari rolled her shoulders indifferently, smirking at Jenna with quirked brows. Jenna chuckled warmly.

    "'Nuff said, then . . ."

    ". . . You got it."

    "You know," Jenna's eyebrow arched curiously as she stared at Ari. "I DID hear something about Captain Caveman . . ." she trailed off, as Ari turned a mocking glare on the now-squirming teenager next to her.

    "Really, Spike? What did you do, take out an ad in the local newspaper? And here I heard that  _boys_  are always moaning about how  _girls_  are gossip hags!" he groaned in disgust, eyeing his aunt with disfavour at her getting him into trouble.

    "Oh, come on! I didn't mean to tell her-" if he slouched any lower in his seat, he was going to end up with his bum on the floor of the car. Jenna was laughing as she watched the back of his neck flush dark red in his mortification at being caught out.

    "-Kinda like you didn't mean to spill to Vicki, either, huh? 'Cause THAT turned out really well . . ." Ari spoke drily, rolling her eyes at the memory of the confrontation she'd been forced to break up yesterday afternoon . . .

* * *

_. . . Jeremy was holding the door open for her to exit the school, and she was about to start walking down the steps when she saw them – Vicki's face was contorted in anger as she snarled at another girl, standing at the bottom with her back turned, as she cowered from Vicki's wrath . . . Elena Gilbert! That profile was unmistakable after watching the not-terribly-subtle byplay between the girl and Stefan Salvatore in History . . . and English . . . today, as well as the fact that Bonnie Bennett was standing right next to her._

_Ari just stared for a moment, dumbstruck, before her mind clicked. She whirled on her companion, who was cringing slightly at the scene. He flinched at the baleful look she fixed on him, his hands rising defensively. "_ You told her _?" Ari didn't even have to spell out who she was talking about._

    " _No – yes – I – I didn't mean-"_

    " _-Not awesome, Spike!" she raked her hand through her hair in exasperation as she turned back to watch the quarrel. She snorted in disgust as she watched Elena cringe at Vicki's angry tirade. "Okay, well, if you're gonna make a mess, Gilbert, then you're gonna help to clean it up, too. Come on!" She jerked her head at him to tell him to follow her as she hot-footed it down the concrete steps to intervene before this got any uglier than it already was. Jeremy was right behind her – damn, if Aunt Jenna EVER found out he'd managed to get his sister into a fight on their first day of school . . . he shuddered in dread. 'Grounded for life' would be the very least of her punishments, he really didn't want to find out what else she'd do to him over this disaster, especially if Elena ended up getting hurt._

_Apparently, Vicki had already delivered a fairly hefty shove . . . Elena was holding onto the handrail at the base of the steps for support, as a blonde girl – was that Caroline Forbes? – appeared to be staggering slightly on her heels right behind his sister, as everyone around them gawked at the brewing quarrel._

_Or, maybe not_ everyone _– Ari caught sight of a blond-headed guy shoving his way through the crowd, his bright blue eyes fixed on Vicki, as she reared back with her arms lifting threateningly to push Elena once more. She remembered him from History and Biology – Matthew Donovan – this was Vicki's younger brother. He got behind Vicki just in time, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her away as she struggled and cursed. Ari was right there, standing in front of Vicki and speaking to her quietly, making sure that she was blocking the angry girl's view of Elena as she tried to calm her down. Jeremy was quick to walk up beside Matt, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Matt, it's okay. It's not her fault, you can let her go . . ." Matt just looked at him as though he thought Jeremy needed his head examined._

_Given the way that Vicki was still hurling threats at the top of her lungs, even as Ari was attempting to soothe her, Jeremy didn't blame him for being sceptical. He huffed out a breath and cursed himself for ever telling Vicki about the blow-up in the office . . . Ari was right – he screwed up, now he had to fix it. "She's only standing up for Ari, after what happened this morning . . ." he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck in embarrassment as Matt slowly released his sister, keeping a cautious eye on her even as he tilted his head curiously at Jeremy. ". . . There was an argument in the office," he pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Elena. "Where my sister thought that it was a great idea to accuse someone she's never met before," rolling his hand over to indicate Ari. "Of being a drug-dealer." Matt's jaw dropped in shock._

    " _Yeah, tell me about it!" Jeremy muttered as he thought back to the way Ari had stared his sister down, looking like she wanted nothing more than to drop-kick her back into the hallway. Hard to blame her, HE had almost been tempted to kick his sister in the kneecap for being a pushy, judgmental bitch, which was one of the reasons why he had been so quick to race after Ari when she left the room – just in case he might not have been able to resist following through with that particular urge. "Vicki wasn't there – but I might've opened my mouth and blabbed to her down at the Pit 'cause I was still pissed off about it," he rushed out the last part when Matt quirked his brows in confusion. The older boy gave him 'The Look' for that, as Jeremy grinned apologetically. Matt's gaze returned to Vicki, his shoulders slumping in relief as he saw that she was mostly calm now._

    " _Not the best idea you've ever had, Jer," was all he said in response, too busy being glad that the new girl had managed to keep Vick from tearing Elena's face off. Jeremy just snorted at that._

" _Yeah, you're not the first one to point that out to me, today. Don't worry, I get it – I'm a dick!"_

    " _I'll say." Matt looked around – now that everyone had seen that his sister wasn't about to make another scene, they'd cleared out to head home for the day. Crisis averted, the show is over, people . . ._

* * *

    "Vicki? Vicki Donovan? What about her?" Jenna was still hiccupping a little from laughing as she asked the question. Jeremy's slight wince went unnoticed, for the moment.

    Ari shrugged casually. "Spike, here, turns into a real Chatty Cathy, sometimes. Meh!" she shrugged again dismissively, as if to say 'whatever, it happens'. Jenna wrinkled her brow at Ari's evasive reply, but she was distracted from probing further as she heard Elena coming down the steps of the front porch, turning to see her stop dead in her tracks as her face flushed scarlet, and then paled dramatically, when she saw the convertible in their driveway. Jenna twisted back around, a bit stunned at her niece's reaction, and caught Jeremy's rather chilly look directed at his sister just before he swivelled his head towards Ari, who was now staring back over her shoulder as she watched another car coming down the road. "Isn't that Bennett's car?"

    Everyone looked – it  _was_  Bonnie Bennett . . . and the expression on her face when she saw the Maserati, and its occupants, only heightened Jenna's nascent suspicions. Bonnie seemed as though she didn't know whether to have a stroke on the spot, or burst out in hysterical laughter; as she stared from Ari and Jeremy, to Jenna, standing there now with her hands propped on her hips, and then over to Elena, who appeared to be imitating an ice sculpture as Bonnie braked in front of the house.

    Ari could see the look on Jenna's face – she SO wasn't getting in the middle of this – and smoothly made their excuses to leave. "Sorry, Miss Sommers, but I've still gotta pick up Vicki and Matt, so if we don't leave now, we're gonna be late." She and Jeremy quickly waved to her in farewell and Jenna raised her hand in a half-hearted goodbye, clearly preoccupied with her thoughts. Ari looked over her shoulder again, nodding to Bonnie. "See you at school, Bennett!" she called, as she put the car in gear, and rolled out quickly.

    The others watched them go; Jenna was still quite taken aback. She'd really thought that, if anyone, it would've been Elena that Ari really bonded with, rather than Jeremy. They were the same age, and orphaned under tragic circumstances, but . . . apparently not. She arched her brows imperiously at her niece, who finally appeared to have come back to life now that Ari had taken off, and watched her swallow slightly at the look Jenna was giving her. "Do you want to tell me what happened, or would you prefer that I find out for myself?"

* * *

    Once the roadster was out of sight around the corner, Ari poked Jeremy in the ribs. "Owwww!" he whined in protest, as she eyed him darkly for a moment before returning her attention to the road and focussing on remembering how to get to the Donovan's house. "Why! Why did you do that?" he rubbed at his side, sulking a bit at the sting – her fingers were hard!

    "Seriously, do I even need to answer that?"

    He grumbled under his breath, still brooding about the jab. "Yeah, well, Aunt Jenna has ways of making you talk." Ari just shook her head, giving up for the moment. The side of her mouth curled up in a wicked smirk as she flicked the button for the stereo, listening as the selector cued up the song. Jeremy rolled his head back over the seat and snorted in annoyed mirth as he heard the gravelly lyrics. The female vocalist's distinctive deep tones rasped out the suggestive lines to one of her hit songs while Ari chuckled loudly at his reluctant amusement. Her giggles cut off with a choked gasp as he took the opportunity for a little payback, knuckling her in the ribs as she winced and squirmed away from him as much as she could – which wasn't very much, seeing as they were in a car.

    "Hey! Driving here, Spike," she squeaked in reproof. It was his turn to laugh out loud now. He wagged his finger at her in joking reprimand.

    "Yeah? Well, now you know how it feels, Parrish." She poked out her tongue childishly, and they both laughed.

' **. . . You bleed you learn  
You scream you learn**

**I recommend biting off more then you can chew to anyone**  
**I certainly do**  
**I recommend sticking your foot in your mouth at any time**  
**Feel free . . .'**

    "Sounds like advice YOU sure don't need, Spike," Ari sniggered as he stared at her, utterly deadpan.

    "How many times do you want me to say it, Parrish – I'M SORRY!" He pulled out a cigarette and lit up huffily, watching her from the corner of his eye as she shrugged dismissively.

    "Yeah, I believe you, but just stop with the motor-mouth, alright. The whole world does NOT need to know all about what happened yesterday," she warned as they turned the corner into Harrison Street, cruising down towards No. 529, where they could see the Donovan siblings waiting patiently outside.

' **. . . The fire trucks are coming up around the bend  
**

**You live you learn**  
**You love you learn**  
 **You cry you learn**  
 **You lose you learn**  
 **You bleed you learn**  
 **You scream you learn**

**You grieve you learn**  
**You choke you learn**  
**You laugh you learn**  
**You choose you learn**  
**You pray you learn**  
**You ask you learn**  
**You live you learn . . .'**

    Ari sang along with the last few lines of the alt-rock ballad, crooning the final words in a teasing, prolonged soprano, as she ruffled Jeremy's hair while he squawked in protest. Matt and Vicki had been walking over once they saw the GranCabrio rolling up the street, stopping in awe as they listened to Ari's rich tones belting out the lyrics – the girl could  _sing_! They laughed along with Ari while Jeremy patted his hair back into place, growling dire threats of retaliation under his breath, as they piled into the backseat. And they were off, ready for another exciting day at the fun-filled amusement park known as Mystic Falls High . . .

* * *

    Heads turned once more as the new girl's _sweet_  ride growled its way through the gates, possibly breaking every noise pollution law that ever existed, as the thundering sounds of full-blown rock poured from the speakers.

**'. . . Highway to hell**   
**On the highway to hell**   
**Highway to hell**   
**I'm on the highway to hell**   
**(Highway to hell) I'm on the highway to hell**   
**(Highway to hell) highway to hell**   
**(Highway to hell) highway to hell**   
**(Highway to hell)**   
**And I'm goin' down**   
**All the way**   
**I'm on the highway to hell . . .'**

    Bonnie Bennett had managed to find a parking space available earlier on that had a vacant one right beside it, so she'd made sure to stand in the empty bay with Caroline to block anyone else from taking it before Ari Parrish showed up. She had to turn away and cover her mouth with her hand to muffle the sounds of her laughter at the fitting theme of the song, and she certainly wasn't the only one. Caroline didn't even bother to hide her glee, bursting out in undignified guffaws, as she inwardly applauded this chick's sheer brass – everybody thought it, but not many were brave enough to actually put it out there . . . school BITES. The pair watched with matching grins as the laughing girl responded to Bonnie's beckoning, pulling into the bay as they backed out and waved to Ari, who nodded back with a friendly smirk.

    With the power to the engine shut down, the music flicked off in time for them to catch the last pieces of the conversation in the car as Ari looked over her shoulder at the pair in the back. ". . . So, what you're saying is, my 'teenage hormonal drama' is basically some wildly entertaining mix of gossip, stand-up comedy,  _and_ **The Idiot's Guide** ** **to Romance** : What NOT To Do When Dating**, for the rest of the ENTIRE school?" was Matt's slightly incredulous statement, as his expression said that he wasn't really sure whether to laugh like a lunatic, or just crawl under a rock and  _die_  of humiliation.

    By this stage, Jeremy had his head resting against the dashboard as he tried not to die of  _laughter_  while Vicki was nearly on the floor in the back as she rolled around in fits of hysteria, holding her sides as she gasped for air. Bonnie glanced over her shoulder, meeting Caroline's eyes as both girls arched their eyebrows in intrigue . . . what they wouldn't have given to be a bug on the windshield when this particular discussion was introduced!

    "Well . . .  _yes_?" Ari's sardonic response, with her tone pitching slightly at the end to turn it into a pseudo-question, was too much for the other two in the vehicle as Jeremy opened his door and all but fell out as he doubled over and whooped. Vicki almost had to crawl out of the car; apparently her knees weren't quite steady enough to hold her up as she nearly choked on a fresh bout of giggles.

    Bonnie knew that Matt was trying very hard to be serious about the topic as he squeezed his brows together and stared fiercely, narrowly, at Ari who just returned his stare without flinching, but she could tell that all he wanted to do was fall about laughing his head off, the same way that his sister and Jeremy were. The twinkle in the bright blue eyes, and the slight quiver of his bottom lip as he desperately tried to keep it from curling up into a grin, belied his attempt to glare darkly at the girl.

    He finally gave up, snorting with laughter as Ari grinned unrepentantly, both exiting the car as Ari clicked the remote to close the top. "I'm SO glad we've had this little chat, Ari. It really helps to know that I'm setting an example to the rest of my peers . . ." the sarcasm was pretty thick as he acknowledged Bonnie and Caroline with a smirk and a wave, and farewelled Ari and Vicki lazily, while  _accidentally_ nudging Jeremy with his thigh as he turned to walk away, heading towards his teammates who were tossing a football around idly on the grass. Jeremy was unsteady from laughing as it was, so the slight jostle was enough to send him sprawling as he spluttered indignantly.

    Ari had rounded the car by then, so she stuck out her hand for him to grasp for balance as he levered himself upright again. He dusted off his jeans as Bonnie wandered over, Caroline trailing a little behind her. "Have I thanked you, you know, for leaving me to deal with that mess this morning in Jenna's driveway, yet?" her tone was only very slightly saccharine as Ari and Jeremy turned to her with matching innocent, cherubic beams that were only spoiled by twin devilish gleams in the brown and gold eyes.

    "You're welcome!" they chorused sweetly, Ari rounding off the charade by batting her lashes like a diva, as Caroline guffawed once more. Bonnie clicked her tongue chidingly and Vicki decided to escape while the getting was good, calling out to Ari and Jeremy as she went. Jeremy watched her go with barely veiled longing in his dark eyes, before shrugging it off and turning back to ask the obvious question. "So . . . I see Two Musketeers, where's  _Aramis_?"

    Caroline rolled her eyes at that old joke . . . Jeremy had been  _unbearable_  for weeks after watching  **The Three Musketeers**  – clearly, Elena had to be Aramis, the decidedly unholier-than-thou priest; she, herself, was cast as Porthos, the exuberant, balls-to-the-wall, tough guy; which left Bonnie to be Athos, the cynical, worldly one of the group. "Yeah, for some . . .  _unknown_  . . . reason, she took off like a scalded cat when she saw this baby-" she patted the low-slung hood of the Maserati affectionately, appreciating the feel of the warm, smooth metal under the glossy paint, "-Coming through the gates just now."

    "Uh-huh . . ."

    ". . . Don't start, Spike." Ari just shook her head at him, her eyes telling him that this was exactly what she'd been talking about this morning, about not over-sharing. He shrugged indifferently.

    "Oh . . . Arianna Parrish, this is Caroline Forbes," Bonnie finally remembered why they'd been standing around in the parking lot, waiting for Ari to get there. "She asked me if I'd introduce you, so . . ." Ari nodded with a grin, as Caroline walked around Bonnie with her hand outstretched. They shook hands politely but, just as Caroline opened her mouth, they were interrupted by a highly unwelcome voice. Apparently, Tyler Lockwood had finally decided to try his luck with the new girl, in his usual heavy-handed fashion.

    "So what's it gonna take, for you to give  _me_  a ride, sweetheart?" He might have actually believed that he sounded like sex-on-legs with his raspy voice and suggestive words . . . Ari just rolled her eyes and gave serious consideration to the idea of offering him a eucalyptus-drop for the frog in his throat.  _This_  was why she'd argued vehemently against masquerading as a high-school student in the first place – she'd had enough of this when she actually  _was_  a teenager!

    She released Caroline's hand and turned slowly, surveying the boy from head-to-toe thoroughly. Of average height, with dark of hair and eyes and deep-olive skin, he was rather attractive if you went for that type, she acknowledged. As long as you discounted the condescending smirk curling his lips, as though he believed that no one could resist him. Well, this hot-air balloon was about to develop a nasty puncture. Propping one hand on her hip, she looked him up and down once more, before curling her lip disdainfully, and turning away in clear dismissal. "No one gets a  _ride_  off of me that they haven't  _earned_ , so I think that  _you_  can forget it." Jeremy sniggered loudly, making no attempt to hide his derision as he sneered at Tyler.

    Tyler apparently wasn't paying attention to the dangerous edge in her silky tone as he stepped even closer, nearly starting to infringe on her personal space. Jeremy's chuckles choked off and he stiffened angrily, his hands fisting at his sides as his eyes narrowed. "Then let me  _earn_  it . . ." Lockwood was really pushing his luck, Jeremy thought, if he got any closer to Ari he was going to take his head off. He never got the chance, though.

    "Learn to take a hint, jockstrap!" Ari's voice was as cold as ice-cream and sharp as razors while her powerful, hawkish gaze burnt into Tyler's stunned, and suddenly slightly wary, black eyes. "Back away, slowly – DO NOT touch the merchandise." Her wide grin showed a lot of bright, white teeth as her eyes promised the shocked cornerback that all kinds of hell was about to descend on him if he didn't walk away . . . right now. He backed off but, being who he was, he just couldn't resist a parting shot.

    "Sure, whatever . . . you don't know what you're missing."

    "Oh, right. A ten-second groping session, followed by the wonder that is the double-pump-chump act? I'm SO devastated to miss that."

    He turned and strutted off; trying to show that he was in no way intimidated, like anyone in that group could actually care less. Jeremy relaxed slightly, now that he was gone, but he still glared hotly at his back. "Shoulda let me kick his ass," he muttered.

    "Kicking his arse, while momentarily satisfying, won't get that guy a clue anytime soon. A kick in the ego, however . . ." Ari trailed off, as the four of them watched him go.

    "It's almost funny, really," Caroline commented with her eyes fixed on Tyler's back as he walked back towards his football buddies. "I've known Tyler Lockwood all my life, and the best part of seeing him – is watching him  _leave_." Bonnie hummed in agreement, while Ari smirked wickedly, her eyes fixed on a particular portion of the boy's anatomy.

    "In more ways than one," she agreed, her eyes gleaming mischievously. They all followed the line of her gaze, before Jeremy gagged in disgust, and Caroline and Bonnie giggled. They both took a second glance . . . Ari was right, they decided, as disagreeable as Tyler's personality was, the back-view was certainly nice to see. Jeremy eyed Ari darkly as she grinned unapologetically. "What? I'm immune . . . not blind!

    "I wouldn't touch that idiot with a twenty-foot pole – and rubber gloves – but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the scenery he provides," she shrugged casually as Jeremy snorted. She took another peek. "Although . . . does anyone here know from personal experience, as to whether or not he actually IS a 'double-pump-chump'?" she glanced around at Bonnie and Caroline, seeing both girls shaking their heads in denial. Then they all turned to Jeremy, raising their eyebrows in query.

    "WHAAA . . . ?" He gaped at them in shock, before screwing up his face in revulsion. "NO! No – hell no! Wherever that guy is," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the retreating Lockwood, "My, uh . . .  _compass needle_ , so to speak . . . is firmly pointed in the opposite direction." He shuddered at the thought – him and Tyler? It was actually worse than the thought of Tyler and Vicki, and  _that_  was bad enough. Ugh!

    Jeremy knew where he wasn't needed, and he figured Vicki would be curled up in the corner of the Pit somewhere by now with a buzz on – he was SO there! He backed off slowly, much as Tyler had, with his hands raised in the air in surrender. "This is getting WAY too 'girl-talk' for me, so I'll be . . . anywhere . . . but here," he flourished his hand in a mocking goodbye as they cat-called good-naturedly at his retreating back. They watched on in fascination as the back of his neck flushed bright red in embarrassment when Ari let out an enthusiastic wolf-whistle in approval of HIS back-view which certainly didn't suffer by comparison with Tyler Lockwood's, at least in her opinion. Caroline and Bonnie cackled merrily as he hustled away swiftly from the shameless architect of his mortification.

    The warning bell for Homeroom decided to ring at that moment, and Caroline groaned in disappointment. "Well, say goodbye to freedom for today, but tonight . . . we PARTY!" she added a subtle shimmy on the word 'party' for emphasis, as she waggled her brows meaningfully. Bonnie and Ari grinned back while they picked up their bags, and joined up with the rest of the crowd, reluctantly making their way inside. "Wait . . ." she paused to frown slightly as she thought about it. ". . . You DO know about the party at the Falls, right?" she asked Ari, breathing a gusty sigh of relief when the other blonde nodded and smirked.

    "Doesn't everybody?" was Ari's tongue-in-cheek question as Bonnie sniggered at Caroline's clear relief.

    "Well, I hope so . . . otherwise it won't be much of an event!" Caroline quipped cheekily. They were all laughing as they walked into the Junior's Homeroom, oblivious to the many eyes observing them – all so different, yet incredibly beautiful in their own ways – Arianna, tall and golden, aloof and untouchable; Caroline, blonde and bouncy, with her perky cheerleader's attitude; and Bonnie, small and dark, intense yet quiet; seen as a unit, they were devastating.

* * *

    It was 3:35pm when Ari all but burst through the main doors of the building, clearing the steps in one leap, and throwing her arms wide as she spun in a circle – luxuriating in the sense of being freed from tyranny, released from the endless monotony of Purgatory, seeing the light at the top of the dark pit of despair . . . yeah, you get the idea – while Stefan trailed along behind her, grinning widely at her exaggerated display of sheer relief. "Free! Liberated from our unbearable sentences of being subjected to indoctrination, propaganda and, above all, the mind-numbing ineptitude of our so-called educators who force-feed us false . . . OOH-"

    Spying the nearby picnic-style bench setting that was currently unoccupied, out of the corner of her eye, as she spun around; she was off like a shot to claim it before anyone else could. "-BAGS!" she got there, just before a bunch of the varsity sports program kids could assert their entitlement to it, leaping atop the table and hefting her schoolbag over her head in a vaguely menacing fashion as she eyed them beadily. "Get out of it, paper-shakers and jockstraps, it's MINE."

    Even as one of the girls in the group went to open her mouth – intending on an indignant protest stating that THEY had the superior numbers, as well as the primacy of being high-performance athletes (in their own minds) and students of longer standing here at MFHS than this chick, so therefore Miss Arianna Parrish could just  _schlep_  her Limey, newcomer's butt right off of THEIR damn table,  _thank you very much_  – and then she shut it abruptly as she saw the other female lower the bag back down, transferring her grip into just her right hand as she swung it, ever-so-idly, back and forth at her side, allowing the irritated group to see for themselves that it was clearly full of heavy textbooks and other materials that would make for a fairly solid burden – even for some of the brawnier, more strapping males of the group – to be hauling about.

    And yet there she was, this lean and lissom young woman – who fit the ideal of a dancer more so than that of a female bodybuilder – carrying the loaded kit without any apparent sighs of strain as her expression warned . . . "Twiggy!" staring down the girl that had wanted to stake a claim on  _Ari's_  turf. "I have an extremely heavy – verging on overflowing – blunt object here that is about to cause a helluva lot of damage, especially when it's slammed against  _your_  skinny rack of bones, AND I know how to use it, so if you ALL don't back off . . ." she trailed off suggestively, as she raised her eyebrow, leaving the rest of her sentence up to their imaginations to fill in for her while the other girl sputtered resentfully at her words, the coffee-coloured skin of her cheeks darkening to ebony with her anger.

    Apparently, though, it was only  _one_  word in particular that had provoked her ire. "It's TIKI! Not  _Twiggy_!"

    Ari took a split-second to internally gape in shock – really, out of everything that she'd said, THAT was what this brainless twit had focussed on? Recovering, she sneered at the vapid moron in contempt and retorted, "WHO THE HELL CARES WHAT YOUR NAME IS? I'm not even gonna bother to remember that you exist in about five minutes, so get outta here, and take this bunch of social-climbing, walking, talking, mindless drones with you when you go, ya flimsy excuse for a bicycle! Go on . . . get!" They finally submitted to her greater resolve and willingness to stand her ground in the face of overwhelming odds and departed, though not without much grumbling and sideways glances that threatened dire retribution at some future stage – which she blithely ignored as she spun back around to face Stefan, spreading her hands as if to say, 'And THAT'S how you do it – simple.'

    He had a look on his face that said that he wasn't sure whether to burst out laughing hysterically, or to applaud heartily at the performance she'd just put on, or both. He settled for shaking his head in disbelief as he watched the defeated band's hasty withdrawal from the field of battle, their egos flogged and slain by the victorious blonde as she smirked and dropped down to seat herself comfortably on the table.

    Stefan's mouth nearly dropped open in shock – for a mere human that SHOULD have been a nearly impossible physical manoeuvre – from a straight standing position, she had managed to fold and coil her body around as she sank downwards to settle herself into a perfect lotus pose without falling heavily onto her knees, or her backside . . . if he didn't know any better, he might have thought that Arianna had to be some form of invertebrate in order to be able to bend and flex like that, be so smooth and sinuous.

    She propped her forearms on her thighs as she assumed the classic posture of deep meditation, the tips of the thumbs and forefingers of each hand kissed lightly together as she closed her eyes – and then shattered the serene image by undergoing a full-bodied shudder of distaste. "Ugh!" she glared off into the distance, where she could still see the gang of wannabes that she'd banished previously – now that they had finally stopped fleeing from her wrath, and settled into a spot that they clearly felt was far enough away that they would at least have plenty of warning if she decided to pursue a vendetta – whatever!

    She snorted in disgust. "Witless, nit-infested toerags," she was still throwing mental daggers in their direction when she felt Stefan sit down next to her, propping his right foot on the seat as he swung the left aimlessly back and forth, but she didn't look at him as she spoke. "I swear to God that they were here just long enough to infect ME with their pervasive brand of stupid – I'm telling you!" she twisted her head to glower at him as he sniggered softly. "I can feel it – my I.Q. just dropped by  _at least_  ten points for sharing the same air as them . . . this is going to take a whole lotta meditation and brain-teasers . . . and maybe a few doses of triple-strength Omega-3, as well, to fix the damage." And so saying, she faced forwards once more and closed her eyes in concentration.

    Stefan pursed his lips, and declined to respond for the moment, smirking to himself as he thought about everything that he'd learned about the enigmatic young woman next to him – one thing was for sure . . . with Arianna Parrish around, life was never going to be boring! His brow furrowed slightly as he remembered something she had said before that had left him somewhat bemused as to her meaning. "Bicycle?" he questioned lightly, not really expecting an answer from the oblivious girl beside him, clearly lost in a world of her own – or not.

    "Pure framework – and nothing else," was the absent-minded reply. "A bicycle is essentially a metallic skeleton without meat, or muscle, or padding to cover it up – kinda like Little Miss Twiggy . . . you could use that chick's ribs as a xylophone, if you could stand being that close to her without being afraid of breaking her in half by breathing too hard! Now  _shush_ ," she chided him playfully. "Can't you see that I'm trying to find inner peace, here?"

    "Sorry," he breathed the word more than whispered it, but he knew that she had heard him when the side of her mouth quirked up in a grin. He managed to keep quiet for about a minute or so, but the urge to needle her a bit was just too strong, and besides, he really was curious as to why she'd even bothered to restrain herself for as long as she had during History class, their last period right before lunch – it surely hadn't been because she wasn't absolutely sulphuric with rage over William Tanner's snide little character assassinations of his students, thinly veiled as his truly pathetic attempt at teaching History to a classroom full of apathetic Juniors.

* * *

_Bonnie Bennett had swiftly been relegated to the ranks of 'empty-headed fluff' for not knowing the answer to the question that had been asked, according to the Law Of Tanner, and Stefan was listening tensely to the sound of Arianna's breathing catching in her throat as she shifted from her previously studied pose of insolent boredom into a watchful, predatory silence._

_Matthew Donovan was next on the list to have his 'abysmal ignorance' named – and shamed – but it had backfired on the egotistical moron when Matt had simply rolled his eyes and played the part assigned to him to the hilt . . . that of the 'brainless jock'. He had shared a quick fist-bump with Arianna as she laughingly esteemed his easygoing wit._

_Any lingering amusement died a sudden and painful death once Tanner got through with using Elena Gilbert as a verbal whipping-post, though, the appalled silence in the room was deafening as most of them tried to absorb the fact that Tanner had really gone there; they had listened in mute horror as the bastard referred indifferently to her recently orphaned status before going on to suggest, in his customarily cruel and insensitive fashion, that the summer break period was more than enough time for her to pull herself up by her bootstraps and get on with her life._

_In the back of Stefan's mind he hadn't been able to resist wondering if Tanner actually believed that real life was like an off-Broadway version of_ **Annie!** _where losing everything that you loved could be resolved with a bright and unfailingly positive outlook, along with the requisite orchestral music accompanied by the characters singing and tap-dancing their way to the miraculous solution to all their worries. The larger portion of his brain was taken up with his struggle to regain his self-possession – and his voice – back before Arianna did . . . he had a feeling that if she managed to locate her tongue before himself, then her inevitable outburst of towering wrath that he could almost_ feel _would make a nuclear detonation seem tame by comparison!_

_Desperate, he exhaled roughly and then breathed in deeply – there, his lungs had finally recovered from their temporary paralysis. "There were 346 casualties, unless you're counting the local civilians . . ."_

* * *

    Fidgeting a little as he tried to think of a way to bring the taboo subject up that wouldn't be too forward . . . or pushy . . . or impolite . . . or have her turning on  _him_  to finally vent her grudgingly suppressed fury over the matter – and then he thought of an approach that hopefully wouldn't see him neutered. "I couldn't help but notice that you didn't have much of an appetite at Lunch today . . ." he didn't think that anyone in that classroom could have had much of a stomach for food after the rather sickening experience – but he HAD seen Arianna picking disinterestedly at her sandwich before pushing it away, along with her fruit salad, with an expression of slight revulsion – he knew the feeling.

    He watched now, from the corner of his eye, as her spine tensed in annoyance at his unsubtle probe, before she visibly forced herself to relax again, keeping her eyes firmly closed and making a soft 'hmmm' sound repetitively under her breath. Pointed ignorance of his initial efforts to analyse her psyche was surely better than being kicked in the kneecap, he assured himself – but then again, he might have actually preferred the kick to her twisted and creative methods of retaliation for his prying!

    "Hhhhmmmmmmm!Aaaaaahhhhhh!Sssteffffann!Sssssalvaaaatooooooore!iiiiiiiisssssss!pussssssyyyyyy! _whipped_!byyyyyyyy!Eleeeeeeeeeennnnnnnna!Giiiiiiilberrrrrrrrrrrrrrt!Heeeeee!waaaaaaantsssss!toooooo!beeeee!herrrrrrrr!knnnnnnnight!innnnnnnnn!ssssssssshininnnnnnng!armmmmmmmmmmourrrrr!aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand!ssssssssavvvvvvvvvvvvve!herrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!ffffffffrrrrrrrrrrommmmmm!theeeeeeeee!hiiiiiiiiiiisssssstoryyyyyyyyyyyy!mmmmmonnnnnnnnsterrrrrrrrrr!Hhhhmmmmmmm!" it took him a little while. The deliberate slurring had him stumbling a bit mentally as he tried to unravel her devious little riddle – and that it  _was_  indeed a joke at his expense was made crystal-clear by the teasing jeer in her voice that he could discern even through all of the humming – while the sudden crackling  _hiss_ of her tone on a particular word made him think of a spitting cobra . . . or the sound of a whip being cracked . . . a  _whip_!

    Once he had managed to decipher that one part, the rest slowly started to fall into place, tentatively piecing itself together in his mind –  _what the_?! Why . . . that little . . .  _witch_! He turned to eye her darkly; his glare was wasted on her as her eyes were still closed, and it seemed that she had now added a little circular sway of her torso to her meditation routine – moving to and fro and from side to side as she continued to repeat the 'hhhhmmmmmmm' sound at irregular intervals. She appeared completely unperturbed – apart from the very slight quiver of the muscle just below her cheek, as though she was desperately trying to stifle the urge to grin . . .

    Now, it must be said, Stefan Salvatore was very much a product of the era – and of the place – in which he came of age; males of the upper-class living in Virginia during the 1860's were strictly raised to be unfailingly polite and respectful in all of their dealings with the fairer gender . . . as long as those females belonged to the same social class, of course . . . but, we digress.

    As a wealthy young Southern gentleman, reared from his infancy in an atmosphere of elegant refinement and genteel behaviour, Stefan had never raised his voice – or his hand – to any woman, ever, no matter the circumstances. It simply Wasn't Done. And even during his worst periods as a vampire, as the emotionless Ripper, Stefan had rarely chosen to abuse a helpless female . . . unless he was in the midst of a frenzied feeding, in which case the end result was ultra-violence, and a messy and horrifying death for his victim, or victims, of the moment.

    It simply wasn't a part of his nature – especially when his emotions were back in place and his diet consisted of furry woodland creatures – to actively desire, or participate in, any manner of physical intimidation, or hostility, towards a member of the opposite sex . . .

    He reached over with his left hand and, placing it squarely on her shoulder, he shoved gently – for a vampire – and watched impassively as she went tumbling off the table with a howl . . .  _of laughter_. And  _tumbling_  wasn't the best term to describe the manner in which her body arched and dipped into the direction of his push, as her left foot provided her with leverage when she braced it against the bench-seat and thrust herself upwards and away, gracefully turning a mid-air backwards somersault before landing lightly on her feet and chuckling at his unseemly display of displeasure with her teasing.

    He smirked back lazily while he pointed an admonishing finger at her for her cheek, telling her silently that his retribution wasn't over yet – not by a long shot. He had no regrets . . . and when he finally got his revenge, it was going to be EPIC. In the meantime, though . . . he turned his head as he caught the sounds of the familiar voice as the youngest Gilbert finally emerged from the school building. "I think somebody needs a ride home," Stefan commented, smiling as Arianna spotted her spiky-haired friend and waved.

    Looking over at Stefan, she winked. "To be continued . . ." her face contorted with a slight scowl as she saw her least favourite Gilbert sibling coming towards them . . . or towards Stefan at least. ". . . At a later date – say, tonight?" she tilted her head to him curiously. "You ARE attending the party at the Falls tonight, right, as part of your teenage 'human' experience?" she grinned as she murmured the word 'human'  _sotto voce_ so that only he could hear her.

    He gave her the thumbs-up. "I'll be there."

    She headed over to meet up with Jeremy – and to avoid Elena, who was staring after her with a rather forlorn expression – before turning and walking backwards as she called out to Stefan. "You better be, Salvatore," she winked at him again. "Don't make me come and hunt you down – 'cause I know where you live!" He laughed and waved her off, grinning at her back as she turned and ran off to her car, where Jeremy was already seated shotgun, ready to head for home. "And remind me tonight that we gotta set up our meets for A.P. Languages!" she hollered over the windshield of the convertible, right before she reversed out and took off, not even bothering to wait for a response as she drove away with a last wave.

    Stefan clicked his tongue at the reminder – even though it was only the second day of school Miss Hilton, the Head of the Languages Department at MFHS as well as being the Professor who taught A.P. Languages Studies, had decided to give them a research assignment that required them to work in pairs. Together, the partners were allowed to pick from the range of dialects that fit the theme of the assignment that the class had been given – an extremely comprehensive study of an Extinct Language. The good news was that they had the entire semester to complete it, if needed. They probably would need the entire semester, he thought glumly – this project was massive! Add that to the other homework and course-load for that class as well as all of the others that they were taking – they weren't going to be slacking off any time soon, there was too much to get done!

    Elena's voice drew him out of his contemplation as she grumbled a bit at seeing Arianna's car take off out of the front gates of the school. "Oh – how am I supposed to be able to apologise to her if I can't even talk to her?" He had heard some things – but he rather suspected that it wasn't the whole story – about what had happened between the two in the Reception office yesterday . . . what a mess. All he could do was shrug sympathetically towards the subdued brunette and advise her to give Arianna time to cool down. They parted with the mutual promise to meet up at the Falls later that night, casting longing looks over their shoulders to each other as they separated. Ah . . . young love!

* * *

**'. . . Go figure it out**   
**Oh this is what the world's about**   
**I can tell, what the hell**   
**I can be there too**   
**Yeah Yeah**   
**At the end of the day**   
**I'm feeling good and I'm on my way**   
**When in doubt**   
**Leave it out**   
**Put your faith in life**   
**Woah**

**We can talk about freedom**   
**We can talk about love**   
**We can talk about livin'**   
**But somehow that's not enough**   
**I just want to be givin'**   
**I just wanted to love**   
**Now I know it's time to have a little fun**   
**Woah Oh**   
**Can you hear me now**   
**I dare you to be happy**   
**Woah Oh**   
**I dare you to be happy**   
**Yeah**   
**Woah Oh . . .'**

    Ari carefully manoeuvred her way into the left side of the Donovan's two-door garage and cut the engine. Matt and Vicki came out through the inside door connecting the garage to the house, with Matt locking it behind him. "Ready to PAR-TAY?" he hooted, laughing as Ari and Jeremy didn't even bother with their doors, hopping out straight over the sides.

    "Ready, Sir!" Ari crowed, falling into a military stance and snapping off a quick salute, before dipping into the backseat and coming up with a couple of six-packs. Jeremy had already snagged his own from the floor of the front passenger seat prior to jumping from the car. They all headed outside, pausing as Matt pulled the roller-door down and snapped on the padlock and deadbolt to secure it. Ari had a question to ask before they left, though. "Uh, this party doesn't have a 'no animals allowed' rule, right?"

    Vicki started laughing. "If that were so, the football team would have been banned years ago," she cracked, sniggering loudly.

    "Nah," Matt agreed, even as he rolled his eyes at his sister's dig. "All are welcome – the wilder, the better. Why?" he asked. Ari nodded her head at the ground just in front of his feet. He looked down. "Uh, hello?" he said to the curious-looking feline staring up at him serenely. The creature mewed at him, and wandered over to scruff her sides along his jeans, before strutting over to Ari and leaping up into her arms, purring smugly.

    "Introducing Her Royal Highness, Queen Maarit . . ." Jeremy did an air-drum-roll with a dramatic flourish, presenting Ari's kitten to the amused siblings.

    "Okay," Vicki shrugged offhandedly. "She looks like she knows how to have a good time."

    "Yeah, I kinda figured that if I didn't invite her to the Falls; that she'd either hunt me down – or I'd come home to find that she'd shredded the curtains, eaten all my homework and peed in my boots, so . . ." Ari giggled as she gave Maarit a thorough scratching between her ears. Maarit's eyes slitted in pleasure and the other three would have testified, if asked, that she looked as though she understood every word that Ari said, and that she completely agreed with her assessment of the havoc to be wreaked by a vengeful kitty left at home alone while her mistress went out having fun without her.

    Matt shrugged. "Why not?" he did his last-minute double-check of the garage and house doors to make sure that everything was locked down. Satisfied, he joined back up with the others as they all headed out into the nearby woods, laughing and cheering in high spirits and chasing each other all the way.

* * *

    Ari was huddled off to the side with Jeremy and Vicki – once Matt showed, a bunch of his team-mates, clearly already well-lubricated from the beer, dragged him off into their group. Matt had departed with a helpless shrug and a wave, as they headed towards the kegs. The others laughed as they watched him go, and headed into the cover of the trees for a 'private' moment.

    Ari came out blinking rapidly, and waving at the air in front of her face, as she coughed a bit. Jeremy was right behind her, giggling at random moments, and being extra-cautious not to step on Maarit who was rambling along beside him. Vicki had excused herself to run off and join some of the other kids sitting around deeper in the woods – apparently they had the 'good stuff'.

    They wandered off to find a spare chiller to store their stashes of alcohol in – Ari claimed that she didn't really trust kegs, especially not the ones where all the jocks were hanging out. Jeremy thought back to some of the other parties he'd attended . . . yeah, he didn't really blame her for being cautious. Bottles in hand, they settled in amongst one of the groups, chatting away to some of the kids they knew from class.

    Maarit was an instant hit, claiming one of the chillers as her 'throne' and banishing anyone that she didn't approve of away from it. Most of the group nearly fell over laughing when one of the basketballer's decided not to take the hint and tried to push her off to get a bottle for himself. He slunk off back to the kegs, soundly defeated. He was holding his hand, adorned with a new pair of scratches, to his chest while they all laughed at his swift withdrawal and congratulated the strutting, haughty little feline for 'showing him who's boss'.

    The owner of that particular chiller, a burly college-kid known to all simply as 'Duke', fell madly in love with her for protecting his stash and he saw to it that she had her pick of the choicest burgers and sausages straight off the grill after that as her reward, while someone – Ari thought it might have been Bonnie – had even managed to locate a small bowl for her to enjoy a few laps of beer.

* * *

    "Um, Arianna? Miss Parrish?" On hearing the voice, Ari's first instinct was to get up and walk away while pretending that she hadn't heard anything. Jeremy groaned from his seat beside her, slouching further onto the bench as he rolled his eyes. She knew the feeling . . . she drained the last dregs out of her bottle before tossing it into a nearby bin, before turning and smiling politely at Elena.

    "Miss Gilbert?" she saw Vicki glaring at the other girl from the corner of her eye and quickly stood up, hoping to draw the brunette away from the group, so as to avoid a confrontation. She held out a hand to the side, silently inviting Elena to step aside with her. "What can I do for you?"

    Elena's dark eyes met hers, apology and regret clouding the deep-brown orbs. Ari sighed inwardly . . . was this really the time or place? But, then again, she was probably in the best possible mood for it – the weed and the alcohol had blunted the sharp edges of the world, so she was about as mellow as she was ever going to be to hear her out. She jerked her head towards the trees, and walked away into the privacy of the woods as Elena followed her in.

    Turning, she rested her back against a small oak tree, and looked at the other girl, waiting patiently as she gathered her thoughts. She gave the girl credit for looking her straight in the eyes as she began. "This apology is NOT about the fact that I've been read the Riot Act by almost everyone that knows about it, either. Their words have only confirmed my own thoughts about it ever since it happened – I lost it, big time. This is about me facing up to the fact that I was totally wrong to go off at you yesterday. I made an assumption, and proceeded to make an ass out of myself by blaming you, because that was easier than blaming my little brother. Putting my hand on you, threatening you . . . I could not even begin to explain to you what was going on in my mind, to make myself believe that it was even remotely acceptable."

    Elena paused to take a deep breath, determined to get through all of it – she would beg if she had to! "Please believe me that when I say this, I mean it with all my heart . . . I am SO sorry for being a first-class bitch to you in that office. I deserved a whole lot more than just your scorn when you spoke to me; I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd just punched me straight in the face." Her shoulders heaved with her deep sigh, and then dropped back down as she looked at the taller girl earnestly, waiting for her judgment.

    Ari nodded coolly. "Alright, thanks for saying that. I appreciate it. And . . ." she kicked off from the tree, standing tall as she looked Elena dead in the eye. ". . . If I thought that you really deserved a punch, I'd have given you one. I didn't, I chose to walk away. I think I understand why you went off the rails yesterday," she paused as Elena looked hopeful, holding up a finger in a silent signal for her to listen. "I understand it . . . but I do not condone it . . . and for now, at least, I CANNOT forgive it," she watched Elena's face fall. "Like I said, I do appreciate the fact that you had the grace to apologise . . . and I'm asking you to appreciate the fact that I need time to think about it.

    "Facing an accusation like that – out of nowhere – from someone I've never even met before in my life," she shook her head in disbelief. "You might as well have tried to kick me in the guts for no reason, whatsoever. Because that's how it feels, like you basically spat in my face," Elena opened her mouth to protest, and shut it when Ari held out her hand, fingers spread, to warn her to let her speak. "I'd say that you should try it out for yourself sometime, just to see how it feels – but I really wouldn't wish that kind of baseless condemnation on anybody." She started walking back to the party, stepping around Elena politely. "For what it's worth, I hope you have a great night, Miss Gilbert. Enjoy the party."

    Bonnie and Caroline nearly swarmed her as she came back. "So . . . she did it, right? She apologised?" Caroline wanted to know.

    "Yeah, apology received. Don't worry, Caroline," she assured her, smiling.

    "Awesome!" she squealed, hugging Ari happily, and handing her a fresh bottle before nearly skipping away to grab another for herself, satisfied that everything had worked out. Bonnie had heard the unspoken message, though.

    "Apology received, okay. How about . . . apology accepted?" she asked, slanting her eyes at Ari, who only lifted the bottle to her lips to take a long pull.

    Licking the beer from her lips, she shrugged at Bonnie. "I said thank you very much for the apology . . . and that I would give serious thought to accepting it." Bonnie wrinkled her nose as she thought about it. On the one hand, it would be nice if one of her oldest friends would be able to get along with this new girl – Bonnie just had a feeling about her; but on the other, she totally saw where Ari was coming from. Elena didn't know this chick from Adam's apple – she just took the innocent circumstance of her being in the school's Reception with Jeremy at the same time, and made a disgusting and completely false assumption based on nothing more than that.

    "Yeah . . . I can live with that," she smiled at Ari and, catching movement from behind her, spotted Elena emerging from the trees, finally. She grabbed two fresh bottles from the cooler, graciously permitted by Maarit, and showed them to Ari. "I'll keep her out of your hair for tonight," wandering off to intercept her friend as Ari waved her off with a grin.

* * *

    Stefan trotted briskly over to Arianna – he was NOT running, or hiding, he assured himself – quickly ducking behind her as she reclined against the wooden rail with Jeremy beside her, and Maarit sprawled lazily on the wood. "Save me!" he whispered frantically, peeking out from behind her long legs as he darted his eyes around, looking out for the unmistakable flash of wavy blonde curls.

    She nearly choked on her sip as she spun to look at him. "Stefan?"

    "Shhhhh . . ." he hissed desperately. "Not so loud . . . she'll hear you!" he thought he saw . . . ducking reflexively, he exhaled in relief when it turned out to be just a reflection of some kid's glasses . . . God, he was  _paranoid_.

    ". . ."

    "Caroline . . ." he huffed, holding up his beer-bottle in explanation. "She dragooned me, practically held me hostage. You've got to help me," he all but begged a highly amused Ari. Maarit couldn't have cared less – she was currently absolutely fascinated by the fireflies winking in and out through the trees – and Jeremy was heavily involved in his own drama . . . Vicki and Tyler were snuggling together near one of the campfires, and Jeremy was boring holes in the other boy's back with his eyes.

    "And . . . why, exactly, do you need help fending off a teenage girl?" Ari asked drily. Stefan only glared at her in frustration.

    "How did I get the drop on you, anyway?" he queried in confusion, momentarily sidetracked. "Every other time, you've known when I was around."

    "I knew that you were here, I just expected you to be . . ." she trailed off as she looked in Jeremy's direction – he was still absorbed in trying to murder Tyler via telepathy. ". . . Halfway up Elena Gilbert's shirt, by now – not hiding behind  _my_  skirts – so to speak," she dropped her voice to a soft whisper, just in case, knowing that Stefan would hear her.

    After her incredibly cheeky version of a mantra earlier today he wasn't really surprised by her bluntness, but he gave her the obligatory fish eye for the raunchy remark anyway. "Really?"

    "Well, it's not like you two are blindingly obvious, or anything," she rolled her eyes, smirking as Stefan growled at her playfully. "Anyway," switching the subject back to the reason for him using her as a human shield in the first place. "You still look like you're ready to climb a very tall tree, just to get away from a girl."

    He muttered something highly uncomplimentary under his breath, before huffing out in surrender. He needed her help – it wasn't as though he was an expert on girls. "Arianna, I'm  _trying_ to be polite about it . . ."

    ". . . And there's your problem, Salvatore." She beckoned him around the rail, and he came reluctantly, twitchy and nervous, as he glanced around warily. She snorted, "Oh, for heaven's sake! Stefan . . ." she snapped her fingers in front of his face, bringing his attention back to her. ". . . Let me soothe ALL your worries. I'll tell you a little something that I've noticed about Miss Forbes ever since I met her . . . she doesn't hold back, not on  _anything_." She looked meaningfully at Stefan, who nodded to say that he was with her so far. "Okay, so . . . when she sees something that she wants she goes for it, and she doesn't stop until she gets it – or she finds out that it's  _already taken_.

    "That means that politeness isn't gonna work. So, if your mind is made up that it's never going to happen between you and Caroline . . ." she paused to stare at him inquiringly.

    He stuttered a bit as he tried to frame his response, "Look – I – it's not . . . she's cute, okay? I can see that, but . . ."

    ". . .  _But_ , your uh . . . compass, so to speak, has already dicovered its magnetic North," Ari sniggered with a sideways look at the abstracted Jeremy as he continued to glare at the utterly oblivious couple at the fire. "Your needle is firmly attracted to all things sad, sweet, and brunette," pointing over to where Elena and Bonnie were giggling together.

    If a vampire's blood-circulation functioned as effectively as a human being's did, Stefan was pretty sure his cheeks would have made a fire-truck weep in envy at that moment as he squirmed. "I – well – ugh,  _yes_!" he finally untangled his tongue long enough to blurt it out as Ari smiled gently at him, her teasing forgotten for the moment.

    "I'm not saying that you have to tell Caroline that Elena Gilbert is your one and only, now and forever, until the end of time, blah-blah . . . but, in this particular case, I think it's better to be cruel to be kind. If you want her to back off, you need to say it to her out loud. Don't make a scene, don't shout it out to the world, just say it . . . to her. Tell her straight," Ari finished, tilting her head to the side as she watched him take it in.

    He smiled sheepishly at her. "Did I overreact?"

    She grinned as she held up her hand, the tips of her thumb and forefinger slightly apart. "Just a little."

    "You're a good friend, Arianna."

    "Sssshhhh!" she looked around narrowly for eavesdroppers before whispering dramatically, "Don't let that get around; they'll NEVER leave me alone." Stefan sniggered as she gave him the full treatment; the wide, pleading eyes with her hands folded humbly under her chin as she begged. He assented with a crooked grin. She patted him on the back companionably, giving him a little push in the right direction. "Man up, Salvatore – go get your girl!"

* * *

    Jeremy's moping was really starting to kill her buzz she thought, as she rolled her eyes, and shared an exasperated look with Maarit. Combine that with Caroline's forlorn appearance as she stole her 10,000th glance at Stefan and Elena – snuggled intimately close together on the bridge – along with Matt's dark glares in that same direction, and Ari was starting to feel downright grim. "Alright," she clapped her hands smartly, and snagged Jeremy by the collar as he sputtered in surprise. "You – with me – let's go."

    "Go where?" Jeremy muttered as he stumbled along behind her reluctantly, her fingers in the neck of his shirt were likely to choke him if he didn't go along with her. Maarit was trotting along beside him, happy to get away from all the loud human chatter for a while – maybe she might get an opportunity to check out those winking, dazzling pests.

    "We're going for a walk. You can clear your head, and stop grizzling yourself into a funk."

    "I'm NOT funking."

    "And I'M Robin bloody Williams. It's nice to meet you, we should do coffee sometime."

    Jeremy snorted in disgust, but consented to walk with her for a while. It wasn't bad out here, he thought, looking around. It was peaceful and dark; the only light was from the dull, distant glow of the fires back at the campsite, which faded as they headed deeper into the forest. Every so often, they could hear other people in the distance, as they laughed and shouted and screamed and scared themselves silly, playing around in the trees. They paid it little attention, preferring to walk quietly together, barely speaking.

    The tranquil hush was broken when Maarit froze in her tracks, back arching and the hair along her spine fluffing up aggressively, as she growled deeply in the back of her throat. Jeremy recoiled in surprise, "Wha-" and just stared as Maarit took off, heading into the trees. He looked at Ari, who was frowning after her. "Uh, WTF?"

    "Come on." She raced off after Maarit, calling him to follow. He did, not really sure why he suddenly felt that it was urgent, but he didn't think that Ari's little friend was the sort to go racing off like that, not unless something had happened. A sudden commotion up ahead – a cacophony of cursing, screeching and yowling – had him pouring on the speed, reaching a little clearing where he found Ari standing there grimly, her face pale and set, with her hands propped on her hips as she stared at the whirling mass of skin, fur, teeth, clothing and claws that was Maarit . . . and Tyler Lockwood. On seeing his rival, Jeremy's head snapped around, his eyes searching until he spotted Vicki, her back slumped against a tree like it was the only thing holding her up, as she panted and whimpered fearfully.

    He walked over, retreating a bit and holding up his hands when he saw her eyes snap to him, the expression in them wild and panicky. "Vick, Vicki . . . hey, it's me," he put his hands on his chest as he spoke softly, trying not to frighten her any more than she already was.

    "Jeremy?" she whimpered, her eyes shining with the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. He nodded. She closed her eyes, and shuddered, sliding down the trunk until she sat at the base and just sobbed drily. He turned to see that Maarit had finally let Tyler loose, strutting over to her mistress with her bushy tail held high in triumph – Lockwood was a mess. There were scratches all along his arms, and his jeans were shredded, especially in the back.

    "That – freaking – cat!" he bellowed, staring after Maarit in disbelief as she hopped up into Ari's arms, getting a good scratch under her chin for a job well-done. She chuffed ecstatically; her yellow eyes still fixed menacingly on the angry boy, whose eyes flicked up to Ari's and narrowed in rage. "I'll have that little beast put down for this, you bitch!" he snarled, sneering at her righteously.

    "No, Ty!" he spun around, startled to hear Vicki speaking up in defence of the mini-monster. "You won't do anything about it, 'cause if you do, I'll tell them," she nodded fiercely. "I'll tell them exactly WHY she went for you – to defend ME."

    He huffed in disbelief. "Wow! Vicki Donovan says no? That's gotta be a first," his leering grin dropped as he jumped about three feet in the air at the sudden loud and violent hiss from the spitting bundle of fury in Arianna Parrish's arms. The vicious gleam in the large, golden eyes – glaring at him as she bared her needle-sharp teeth in a snarl – had him flinching at the very thought of her being set loose to commit more acts of aggression on his battered flesh.

    "Keep that thing away from me!" he warned, backing away in alarm.

    "If I were you, Mr. Lockwood," Ari began in a deadly calm voice. "I would walk away, right now, while I still could. Because," she inclined her head to indicate the indignant feline in her arms, watching closely as Tyler's olive complexion paled to a sickly shade of greyish-white. "If you DON'T, I have a feeling that my Killer Kitty is going to take great pleasure in decapitating your dick!"

    That was about all Tyler could stand, he turned tail and ran as if the hounds of hell were after him. Maarit watched him go – once satisfied that he wasn't coming back she leapt out of her girl's arms, and padded over to the distressed girl sitting on the ground. She nuzzled at her gently, soothingly, trying to calm the poor thing. All this fuss over a silly male, she grumbled. He was gone now . . . and good riddance! Vicki started petting her tentatively, growing more assured as Maarit rumbled encouragingly and butted her head against her to demand 'more stroking, please'. She sniffed wetly as she gathered the soft-furred kitten into her arms and hugged her. "My little hero!" her voice was muffled slightly as she buried her face in Maarit's fur. She looked up at them, smiling tremulously, as her eyes filled again – this time in sheer relief.

    Ari crossed over to crouch in front of her, putting her hand on her arm as she spoke gently, "Are you alright? What do you want us to do?" her tone making it clear that she was leaving it up to Vicki to decide whether or not she wanted to punish Tyler any more than Maarit had already seen to. Vicki laughed mirthlessly at that.

    "I don't . . . I don't think that I can face it, not now, probably not ever. Can we just . . . I just want to forget about it. Is that okay?"

    "HELL, NO! Vick, come on! What he did-" Jeremy's outburst was silenced at the black look Ari shot him.

    "It's up to you, Wild Thing.  _Nobody_  . . ." she stared Jeremy down. ". . . Is gonna force you to do anything that you don't wanna do." Jeremy winced at that, showing that he had caught the implication – good. "Do you want to head back with us?" she stood up, flexing her knees – crouching for any length of time tended to be uncomfortable.

    "I don't wanna see anyone, right now," Vicki shook her head in denial. "Maybe I'll just walk around for a bit, get my head straight."

    Ari nodded. She looked at Maarit intently. Her familiar seemed quite content to be where she was, for the moment. "Do you want to stay with her for a while? Wander through the trees?" she asked of the kitten. Maarit looked from her mistress to the girl holding on to her and mewed softly, snuggling deeper into Vicki's arms in assent. "Alright, baby," Ari smiled approvingly. She nodded at Vicki, "She'll keep you company." Vicki smiled.

    Ari turned to Jeremy, and inclined her head back towards the faint sounds of the party. He sighed heavily, glancing at Vicki to see that she was completely absorbed in the contented feline in her embrace, and decided it would be best to go with Ari. He could only thank the heavens that they'd gotten there in time . . . what an ugly scene it would have been, otherwise. Ari hip-checked him playfully as they walked. "Cheer up, Spike. She'll come back, when she's ready." He put his arm around her shoulder and she wrapped hers around his waist as they headed out . . . she was right. Vicki was fine – she had Queen Maarit, the Killer Kitty, looking out for her. Nobody was stupid enough to mess with that feisty bundle of fur – not after seeing what she was capable of doing to the people that pissed her off. He stopped abruptly as a sudden urge made itself known. "Whoa!" he muttered, feeling as if he'd been kicked in the bladder.

    Ari peered at him – and managed to work out the problem from his sudden squirming. "Oh, right. Um, yeah, trees all around us Spike, so by all means," she waved her hand around her in demonstration of her point.

    "Seriously?"

    "What? It's not like I'm gonna peek, I can't think of anything I'd like less," she muttered, feeling her skin flush at the thought of spying on the boy that she was starting to think of as the lovable, yet annoying kid brother that she'd never had. "There!" pointing out a wide-trunked birch of some sort, cast in deep shadows. "I couldn't see anything through that thick bastard even if I had night-vision goggles."

    Jeremy groaned – he was desperate. "Holy shit that beer went right through me," he puffed as he nearly waddled over to stand behind the tree and take care of his business. Rapidly unzipping and untucking, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. He knew that the public toilets were only situated over on the west side of the camping grounds, roughly a two-minute walk from where they were – but he might not have made it that far, the need was so strong when it sneaked up on him. "You've had at least as much as I've had to drink, how come you're not crazy to go yet?" he called out to Ari as she stood there with her back turned to the tree, waiting for him to finish up.

    "Well, for one thing, Spike, I'm not fifteen years old," she affected her snootiest accent as she teased him. "I am a mature woman, who can-" she had to pause as she let out a rather juicy burp that went on for a while, and echoed a little longer afterwards, rolling off the trees surrounding them. "-Hold my bloody booze!" she grumbled, rolling her eyes as she heard his snort of amusement.

    He leaned his head against the trunk as he stifled the urge to laugh – accuracy was the key here – he did not want to go back to the party with stains on his shoes or jeans. "Yeah," he said to her as he was –  _finally_  – done, tucking in and zipping up. "I can see that."

    "Shut up!" He appeared back around the tree as she growled at him good-humouredly. He only smirked as he bowed slightly and held out his arm towards the sounds of the party.

    "Shall we?"

    "We shall, indeed."

* * *

    Finally, with no more major dramas in sight, Ari felt like she could sit back and relax. There was Matt, talking earnestly with Elena – but that wasn't any of her business, nor did she plan on ever making it her concern. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, which generally meant . . . raising her head, she saw Stefan striding out from the trees, hands in his pockets, and chuckled at her own restlessness as she saw him nudge some of the discarded beer-bottles on the ground out of his way with his boot. Having her nerves jangling every time she sensed a vampire in the vicinity was going to get really old, really fast, seeing as she shared a few classes with one of the breed.

    And speaking of Stefan . . . ugh! She slumped down in her seat, avoiding Jeremy's gaze as he glanced at her in question. He followed the line of her stare and cringed slightly – there was Caroline, going for it with her usual unbridled fervour as she smiled enticingly at Stefan. While they couldn't actually hear anything from this distance, his body language spoke volumes – sorry, but no. He walked away from the suddenly downcast blonde, his expression warring between guilt and relief at having made his position clear – it wasn't Caroline that he wanted.

    "Well . . . there you go," Jeremy gave his squirming companion a sympathetic grin. "That's what 'cruel to be kind' looks like. Are we still in favour of the sledgehammer approach?" She eyed him darkly.

    "I knew you were listening in, ya teenage drama queen – and yes," she straightened up and crossed her arms over her chest. "I know it stings like hell – nobody  _likes_  being rejected – but at least she knows he's not playing games or trying to string her along."

    "True," he acknowledged, reaching over to poke her in the belly as they watched Stefan talking to his sister.

    "Hey!"

    "That's for telling him that my sister was supposedly his for the taking."

    Ari cracked up. "I did not! I told him to go for it, seeing as he's clearly very interested, and she's not exactly fighting him off with a stick," she pointed out the obvious, as they continued to observe the other pair's cheerful flirtation.

    Jeremy screwed up his face in distaste – he SO didn't need to see his sister making goo-goo eyes at  _anyone_ , let alone at this new guy that nobody really knew all that much about. He turned his head away to avoid seeing more than he really cared to, opening his mouth to razz Ari some more, when their attention was caught by a sudden racing blur that whizzed out of the trees, heading straight for them as she squalled loudly – Maarit! Her golden eyes were blazing as she leapt straight for Ari, who'd bolted upright in bewilderment at seeing her familiar in such a state.

    Seven-and-a-half pounds of agitated feline struck Ari right in the chest, the momentum of Maarit's spring knocking them both arse-over-teakettle, as Ari let out a wheezy 'OOF!' at the impact. Maarit recovered quickly, jumping up and yowling demandingly at her mistress who just blinked at her dazedly from the ground where she'd fallen, before the kitten turned and streaked back towards the trees, bawling all the way. Jeremy stared after her, his mind in a muddle as he tried to gather his thoughts. "BLOODY BAZOOKA-BRAIN!" was the dire analysis from next to him, as Ari managed to heave herself into a sitting position, rubbing at her aching chest and glaring off after Maarit's swiftly retreating form. "Crazy cuckoo cat!" she muttered as she wobbled to her feet, raking her hand through her hair angrily while a few of the witnesses to the incident chuckled quietly in the background.

    "So . . . that just happened, right?" Jeremy's brain finally clicked back into gear. He got to his feet, meeting Ari's gaze in query. "I wasn't hallucinating?"

    "Should I show you the bruise on my boob?" Ari asked drily, dusting off the back of her jeans briskly. "Would that convince you?" She propped her hands on her hips, staring broodingly after Maarit.

    Jeremy eyed her quizzically. "Really?" She looked at him with her brows arched in question. "You, uh," he gestured mutely at his own chest in demonstration.

    "Spike!" Her brows lowered dangerously.

    He backed away, raising his hands in surrender. " _You_  said it!"

    Ari snorted. " _You_  wish." Looking back towards the trees, she stretched out her senses . . . and her face paled.

    "What . . . ? Ari,  _what_?" Jeremy asked, speaking a little louder when she didn't answer him straight away.

    "Wild Thing."

    "Wha' – Vicki? What about her?" even as he said, it clicked into place for him. Maarit was out in the woods . . . with Vicki! "What the hell . . . why would Maarit leave her?" his voice was high-pitched, on the verge of cracking, with his sudden panic. Ari's face tightened in grim realisation, her eyes gleaming in concern.

    "She wouldn't." The flat, too-calm statement made Jeremy's pulse trip in alarm. "Something's wrong."

    Ari strode forward, on the verge of breaking into a run, when she heard him. "Ari, did you say Vicki?" She stopped dead, her head snapping around, as Matt stepped clear of the group he'd been standing with, staring at her with unease clear in his bright eyes. "What happened?" She could only shake her head. Spinning around, she raced into the trees – if Maarit was as freaked out as she'd appeared to be – there was no time to waste. Hearing footsteps pounding behind her, she never paused until she heard a sudden clatter and shout as Jeremy went down, apparently tripping on some of the same bottles that Stefan had booted away previously.

    Twisting around to jog backwards, she was relieved to see him unharmed as he picked himself up, cursing loudly all the while. "Jesus, Gilbert!" she called to him. "Do you walk much?" He shot her the finger as he started chasing after her again.

    "Who just fell on her ass not a minute ago?" he hollered back, seeing her turn to run flat-out through the trees, dodging branches and exposed roots as she went. She was  _fast_.

    "Oh, right. If that's what you call being torpedoed by  _seven freaking pounds_  of a cat-shaped ballistic missile, then sure, I FELL!" she bellowed back as she pelted through the leaf litter.

    Matt watched them go, his throat suddenly dry and tight, as his heart started pounding with a sick fear – okay, Ari's cat came racing out of the woods like her tail was on fire, but it didn't have to mean that something was wrong with Vicki, he assured himself, even as he began to haul ass towards the trees. Cats were easily spooked, he told himself, she probably saw a fox, or an owl, and ran off.

    He'd just made it into the first line of trees when an unearthly shriek shattered the air. He must have jumped back about six feet, nearly falling on his ass, as he stumbled back from the trees in horror, swallowing hard as his heart dropped straight into his socks. NO! – "VICKI!" – he heard Ari scream, her voice echoing back to the campgrounds where everyone stood, shocked and silent, huddling together for support as they looked over to where the call had come from, like they thought that maybe if they stared long enough, they would be able to see what was happening through the trees.

    Stefan hadn't really been paying too much mind when Maarit came barrelling out of the woods – all of his focus was for the girl he was starting to fall for, Elena Gilbert – but he'd smiled inwardly as he overheard the conversation between Arianna and Elena's kid brother. It was the sudden change in her tone; the dead, icy sound of her voice as she said that something was wrong that made his ears prick up, and his hackles rose . . . Arianna's instincts were incredibly acute, he knew that from personal experience. If she thought that something was wrong – he watched narrowly as she took off with Jeremy hot on her tail, and Matt Donovan heading in after them – and then he heard it.

    He shook his head a little, trying to clear out the ringing in his ears – that girl had quite a set of lungs! He looked at Elena, seeing her pupils dilate in fear, and spoke quietly, "Stay here, Elena." Her mouth opened wide to protest, but he didn't give her a chance to voice her objections as he spun on his heel and went for the woods, heading in the direction that the ear-splitting yell had come from. Donovan was just ahead of him, but Stefan passed him easily, pounding towards the sound of Arianna's voice as she called out for her friend to hang on, that everything was going to be fine.

    He eyed the mist that rolled along the ground in front of him uneasily – he had a feeling that it wasn't exactly natural. And then he heard the sounds of people coming towards him, crashing through the undergrowth as they ran. Maarit came bounding out first, whining in distress, and racing past him as he stared at her. Jeremy was next. "Clear out of the way! Give her room to get through," he called out when saw Stefan's shadowy form blocking the path. Arianna was right behind him, holding Vicki's limp body in her arms as they rushed to get her out of there. Matt managed to get there just as Stefan shifted to clear their path, freezing in shock as he saw his sister being carried as if . . .

    "Vicki?" he wheezed, his eyes filling with tears, as he raced to meet Ari halfway.

    "Matt!" she called to him in relief. "My mobile phone – my cell – is in my right jeans pocket – grab it," adding the last as he just stared at her in bafflement. "Call 911! Get an ambulance out here, right now." Jolted into action, he moved to the side as Ari hustled by him and slipped his fingers into her pocket to fish out the cell as he started punching buttons, running his fingers through his hair as he waited impatiently for the line to connect.

    No one in the small group paid the slightest amount of notice as Stefan melted back into the shadows, his face contorting in pained desire at the smell of freshly-spilled blood.

* * *

    It seemed that everyone had been alerted by Maarit's arrival into the clearing, as they were met with a crowd of gawking onlookers blocking the way. "MOVE!" Ari's commanding bark had them shifting rapidly, though, as she moved through the mob with her precious burden. Matt and Jeremy kept everyone else out of the road, not hesitating to push and elbow people away when they got too close and impeded Ari's path to the bench where she gently laid Vicki down. Quickly she gave Jeremy something to do other than standing there feeling completely useless; telling him to hold the shirt that she'd wadded against the bloody punctures in Vicki's throat tightly, and keep the pressure on, to try and slow the bleeding.

    With her hands free she started running basic first-aid, checking Vicki for any other wounds. She found herself feeling reluctantly grateful to Tyler Lockwood, as he hustled and shoved everyone back to give Vicki some space to breathe without people crowding around her. He stayed out of her way as she moved around Vicki, assessing her condition. She relayed her findings to Matt, who passed them on to the 911 operator on the other end of the line – brief periods of semi-consciousness where she was barely lucid and extremely agitated; several jagged puncture wounds in her throat over the right carotid artery within a roughly circular bruise, indicating a bite of some force; superficial cuts and a few abrasions possibly from a fall; slight contusions on her arms and torso . . . from blows, maybe? Fully clothed, hopefully ruling out any chance of sexual assault – she was very careful not to look at Tyler as she said it – noting Vicki's pallor and the slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, she moved to check the pulse at her wrist.

    She cursed viciously and creatively. ". . . Her pulse is faint, uneven, and too fast – 126 beats per minute – her skin is like ice, but she's sweating," she shifted up to the head of the table while Jeremy carefully moved to the side, still holding Ari's shirt against the bite, watching in concern as she checked Vicki's lips and the inside of her mouth. "Her lips are bluish and dry, the gums are pale and sticky – it looks like hypovolemia . . . she's in shock." Matt just looked at her blankly for a moment.

    "Can you say that again – slowly?" he begged, shaking his head in confusion. "I think I maybe caught about two words out of ten from that." While he was speaking, she all but ripped her jacket off, placing it over Vicki as she called out for help from the others. Confused, but willing, Tyler took off his hoodie and handed it to her, watching her drape it over Vicki's legs. Jeremy's proffered coat was placed on her chest with Ari's as she chafed Vicki's arms, trying to keep her warm.

    "Anyone else, please?" she called, looking around at the morose crowd. "Jackets – sweaters – anything!" Bonnie and Elena quickly shuffled through the scattered groups, snagging anything that people offered to them and, clutching their bundles, raced to Ari's side to hand them over. They watched as she arranged everything over Vicki and only then did she hold her hand out for the cell that Matt was almost mangling in his grip. "Here, Matt," taking the phone from him, she told him to take his sister's hand. "She can hear you, Matt. Just talk to her, let her hear your voice. Tell her that she's gonna be fine." She got Elena to stand down the end of the table at Vicki's feet, and hold them elevated. "Not too high, Elena, just hold them steady," she patted the girl on the back encouragingly, and finally turned her attention to the operator that she could hear calling out on the other end of the connection.

    " _. . . Hello . . . hello? . . . Is anyone there?"_

    "My name is Arianna Parrish, I'm a schoolmate of Vicki Donovan, the girl who's been attacked," her clipped accent was cool and clear as she related everything that she'd ascertained about Vicki's condition so far, and what they were doing to try and keep her stable. ". . . Just get that ambulance here as fast as possible, she's losing way too much blood," she concluded, listening as the operator informed her that the EMT's were about two minutes away, and to stay on the line with them. "No worries," she assured him. "I don't think anybody is going anywhere, not until she gets help."

* * *

    If she was prone to epilepsy, the flashing emergency lights from the emergency vehicles scattered around would surely be giving her fits, Ari mused sourly, huddling into the sleeveless top that Caroline had loaned her, seeing as her own was an absolute loss after being used to try and stem the flow of blood from Vicki's neck. Not that Ari particularly cared about that – it went for a good cause as far as she was concerned . . .

_. . . Once the EMT's took over from the group watching over Vicki, Ari and Jeremy had retreated to one of the benches, sitting on the table as they watched the paramedics treating Vicki. The uncharacteristically subdued Caroline had come up to them, telling Ari that she should probably think about covering up now that the urgency of the situation was over with. Ari had looked blankly down at herself, and finally registered the fact that she was wearing her blue jeans, black boots, and a lacy green bra, and nothing else._

_Jeremy had stared at her vacantly as he noted in some distant part of his brain that Ari did indeed have a bruise on her right breast where Maarit had struck her – but he felt as though his mind was wrapped in a thick, woollen blanket right now, he was just numb to everything at the moment._

_Caroline had stripped off the silky top she was wearing, revealing the black cami worn underneath. "The nights are pretty chilly down here in the fall," she shrugged at Ari's look, before handing over the shirt. "Keep it, honey," she urged as Ari pulled it over her head. "Don't worry about giving it back; after tonight, I think everyone's learned a lesson about donating the shirt off of your own back to help someone out." Ari thanked her quietly and Caroline had nodded, patting her arm gently before taking note of something – or someone – behind Ari and garbling out something incomprehensible as a farewell and taking off like a scalded cat._

    " _Her mom, Sheriff Liz Forbes," was Jeremy's sombre explanation from beside her as she'd stared after Caroline, puzzled at the sudden flight. She blinked – right, she knew that. Nodding, she dropped her head down onto Jeremy's shoulder and snuggled in, for comfort as much as for warmth . . ._

    They were huddled together, Jeremy sipping idly from his bottle, seeking reassurance that they weren't all alone after everything that had happened tonight. Watching as the EMT's were loading Vicki's stretcher into the ambulance, they saw Matt tap one of them on the shoulder, clearly asking something. The other man nodded, and Matt came over to them, still holding onto Maarit as she snuggled into him.

    "I think I have something that belongs to you," he smiled half-heartedly to Ari, the expression in his eyes dull and stressed. "And I don't think the medics are gonna let me take her with us in the ambulance." He transferred her into Ari's arms, and looked up at her. "What are  _you_  gonna do?" Ari's face was blank as she gazed back at him, not understanding his meaning. "About your car?" Matt clarified.

    Ari's eyes closed in realisation. Shit! Sighing heavily, her eyes opened again, and she smiled determinedly to Matt. "Honestly, it's been the last thing on my mind, right now," she told him. "Please don't worry about it, though. You go with Vicki, I can call a taxi."

    "No, Arianna, don't do that." Ari and Jeremy twisted their heads to see that Elena had come up behind them as they were preoccupied with Matt. Ari turned back to nudge him over to the waiting ambulance, waving him away with assurances that she would be fine. Elena walked around to face them, saying, "I've already called Jenna to come and get us. She won't be long – and she won't have any problems with getting you home, too." Jeremy stared down at Ari and nodded in affirmation, as she sighed and agreed with a fleeting smile.

    "Bonnie and Caroline?" she asked the other girl, closing her eyes as she suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion roll over her.

    "Bonnie is driving Caroline – once they've sobered up enough not to take out every street-sign between the Grill and home," Elena explained with a slight grin. Her lips straightened out again as she remembered seeing Jeremy stumble out of the woods with Ari right behind him, carrying Vicki like a child. "Oh God – what a night! Are you okay?" she asked Jeremy worriedly, clasping his arm as she peered at him closely. Jeremy shrugged her off; he wasn't in the mood for her overly solicitous fussing, right now. She rolled her eyes in exasperation, not bothering to be offended; she was used to his moodiness by now.

    She tensed a bit, her lips parting in an awkward, overbright smile as she waved at someone behind them. "Jer, drop the bottle . . .  _now_!" she gritted out, as she rolled her eyes to the bottle in his hand. He just looked at her for a moment, and then shrugged, dropping his arm down low and letting go. The bottle thudded slightly, before tipping on its side and rolling under the table. Elena huffed out softly in relief.

    "Elena, Jeremy . . . and Arianna Parrish," the soft call from behind had them turning as they acknowledged the Sheriff politely. One of the Officers from Animal Control – a lanky, tired-eyed female – was standing next to her, peering at Maarit curiously. "Arianna, from what I'm hearing, you and Jeremy were the ones who found her . . . is that right?" Liz asked for their confirmation. They nodded. Liz nodded back and rounded the table with the A.C. Deputy – whose name was printed on her uniform shirt, identifying her as Susan Sylvester – to talk to them face-to-face. "Take us through it in your own words, please," she requested politely.

    "Alright Sheriff . . ." Ari trailed off when Liz raised her hand.

    "It's Liz, sweetie, remember," smiling as she reminded Ari that most, if not all, of the people who had attended the welcoming party had invited the courteous, soft-spoken young British girl to call them by their first names, utterly charmed by her gracious manners and engaging smile.

    Ari grinned half-heartedly. "I wasn't sure if the situation called for a bit more formality . . ." she rolled her shoulders, trying to work out some off the stiffness. Vicki wasn't exactly a lightweight! "Maarit came barrelling out of the woods with her fur standing on end . . . she was keeping Vicki company while she went for a walk," she explained, when she saw their confusion. "So, Maarit was freaking out, howling like a banshee . . . and then she took off back into the woods, like she wanted us to follow her.

    "I knew that she would never abandon Vicki unless something was going on, so I knew that whatever it was, it was bound to be pretty bad . . ." Ari took them through all of it, finishing off with seeing everyone slump in relief at hearing the sirens from the ambulance as it hurtled down the track. ". . . They took over from all of us, making sure that she was stable, and that's pretty much it before all of you," pointing to Liz and Susan. "Got here, not long afterwards."

    "I spoke with the EMT's," Susan Sylvester piped up. "They were nearly ready to go down on their knees and praise you for keeping your head, making sure that that poor girl was looked after as much as you could out here," pointing out the rough conditions around them. "She was in bad shape, from what they told me – so what you did; it's given her a fighting chance," she concluded, with Liz nodding in affirmation beside her.

    "Sweetie, can I see Maarit, just for a minute?" she asked, holding out her hands for the kitten who peered at her drowsily – Maarit had had a long and exhausting night too, what with having to defend her 'throne' and her friends. Ari exhaled roughly, feeling Jeremy's arm tense as she leaned against his side.

    "Come on, Liz! You can't think-" he began defensively, pausing when Ari squeezed his arm reassuringly.

    "They have to check, Spike," she whispered. "Even just so that they can eliminate her," she carefully bundled an agreeable Maarit into Liz's ready arms, watching as Susan came over to examine her familiar. "It's procedure – she was there with Vicki – they need to check her out."

    "It's also a chance for us to make sure that she's okay, as well, that whatever it was that injured that girl, didn't get this little one at the same time," Susan commented, smiling apologetically to a still-annoyed Jeremy, who was eyeing her coldly, as she ran her gloved hands through Maarit's fur, checking for blood. Her hands came up to the kitten's jaw, and Maarit happily opened her mouth to show off her teeth – clean and white, and far too small to fit the wound pattern on Vicki's throat. Saying as much to the others, she got shrugs of acknowledgement – she wasn't telling them anything that they didn't already know. With Maarit cleared, she took her leave to check in with the other investigators.

    "Do you wanna check mine too, Liz?" Ari grinned irreverently as she opened her jaw wide and showed all her teeth while Liz clicked her tongue chidingly at her cheek.

    "No . . . I've seen the photos the EMT's took for their records," Liz held up her phone in demonstration – ah, the wonders of digital technology! "I think it's safe to say that, whatever it was that attacked Vicki Donovan, it wasn't human." She eyed the three teens in front of her, noting their lack of jackets. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as some of the deputies were currently gathering pieces of clothing from the ground and bagging them individually. "Yours?" she pointed at the bags.

    "Only some of them," Elena answered wryly. "Arianna called out for people to contribute what they could, she was desperate to keep Vicki as warm as possible."

    Liz shook her head grimly – if Arianna hadn't been here! She shook off the thought. "Thank God for you, sweetie," she smiled at Ari gratefully. "I really think you might have saved a life tonight.

    "Anyway," she switched subjects, seeing that Ari was uncomfortable with all of the praise. "Have you spoken to the deputies about your belongings?" seeing them nod, she sighed. "They need them for analysis, seeing as they were covering Vicki – there could be something on them to help us identify what kind of animal it was – but you should be able to collect your things in a couple of weeks, a month at the most . . . we'll get in contact when they're done."

    Liz gave Maarit an appreciative scratch for being so cooperative, before she handed her back to Ari, staring somewhat suspiciously at the polka-dotted red top that she was wearing. "I swear that I've seen that shirt before," she murmured, before flicking her eyes around the grounds – Caroline had cleared out before her mother could spot her, retreating to the safety of the Grill with Bonnie to get some caffeine into her system and try to sober up, before they headed home. Liz pursed her lips, and turned back to them. "How are you all getting home," she questioned. "I'm not going to point fingers; I've been to a few of these back-to-school celebrations myself . . . back in the day . . . but, I don't think that any of you are good to drive," she finished, eyeing them meaningfully.

    Elena was quick to intercede. "Oh no, Liz, we're not driving. Jenna is coming to pick us up soon . . .  _all_  of us," including Ari in the group. Liz peered at something over their shoulders, grinning slightly at what she saw.

    "No, Jenna isn't  _coming_  – Jenna is  _here_ ," she declared, just as Jenna came rushing over.

    "What happened? Everybody's okay . . . aren't you?" she was slightly frantic, the words tumbling out as she looked them over carefully from head-to-toe, trying to see if they needed any medical attention. Liz dismissed herself politely while Jenna hugged first Jeremy and then Ari, tightly, before pulling back to look at her closely. "Elena told me that you're the one that found Vicki, how are you doing?" she questioned her tenderly, squeezing Ari's hand gently in support. Ari squeezed back.

    "I'm okay, I'm just worried about Vicki," she shook her head, raking her fingers through her hair anxiously as she fretted about her friend.

    Jenna sighed heavily. "We all are, Arianna," she assured her. "But there's nothing that any of us can do about it – it's in the hands of the medical staff, now." They all nodded glumly at that. "Let's go home – Arianna, do you need a ride?" Elena gave Ari a small smile . . . 'see', her eyes said. 'And we didn't even have to ask her'. Ari rolled her eyes at Elena's smugness, and just nodded to Jenna in silent thanks.

    Elena lead the way up to Jenna's car, while Jenna slung her arm over Jeremy's shoulders, giving him a comforting squeeze, and elbowed Ari jokingly as she trailed alongside them. "And I haven't forgotten about the 'Miss Sommers' crack earlier today, either!" she waggled her finger admonishingly while Ari grinned. "I told you before, it's Jenna – I'm not THAT old!" they all laughed, walking up the hill, and hopped into the vehicle, Elena calling shotgun and Ari and Jeremy perfectly happy to curl up in the backseat with Maarit perched on Jeremy's lap. "Okay, we're outta here."

* * *

    Maarit was dozing on the swing, her ears flicking around as she chased mice and lizards around in her dreams, while Ari was slumped forward beside her with her head in her hands . . . giving serious contemplation to the idea of foregoing sleep for that night – she had a feeling that  _her_  dreams were not going to be very pretty, and she just didn't want to go there, not after tonight. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she'd pulled an all-nighter – caffeine and Pepper-Up made for an impressive cocktail to keep the blood flowing and the mind sharp . . . possibly a little too sharp, at times. Even as she thought about it, the prickle at the base of her neck and Maarit's sudden alertness warned her . . . looking up, she saw the raven perched in the tree as it eyed her beadily.

    Nestling her back comfortably against the padded rest of the swing, she studied it silently for a moment. It hopped from branch to branch, as if trying to decide whether or not to come closer – but it wouldn't . . . couldn't . . . not without her say-so. Maarit was observing closely, not actively hostile yet, simply watchful and guarded. Ari closed her eyes for a moment, feeling her hands prickle with a strange, eerie warmth, like liquid fire ran through her veins rather than blood – how tempting, how easy it would be to just . . . NO! She clenched her fists as she willed the fierce heat away, for now. If this arrogant Sangevin wanted to play games with her, then they would play until they discovered just which of them would be the first to crack and reveal all their cards. She gathered her poise, biting back the rage, and then opened her eyes once more with an unruffled, inviting smile. "Well? Come along then, let's have a look at you," beckoning the avian familiar forward. Launching itself off the branch, it glided over, flapping its wings as it settled onto the railing and cocked its head at her.

    Her eyes gleamed as she curled her lip in a cold smirk – how very original! "Hmmm, a raven, how fitting," she murmured smoothly, as the bird eyed her curiously. More to the point, the vampire possessing the crow's mind was deeply curious about her! "Crows, ravens, magpies . . . they all have such a long history in mythology. Harbingers of misery, messengers of the gods, and of course, the restless spirits from the realm of the dead are said to be housed within the form of the Crow," she finished, eyeing the familiar meaningfully. It blinked slowly, absorbing her words, shocked and intrigued. She knew? How?

    "Arianna?" Stefan was standing at the edge of her driveway, staring at her, with his hair all but standing on end as it looked as though he'd dragged his fingers through it several times. Maarit chuffed at him in greeting . . . he managed a slight smile for her, which melted away swiftly as he faced Ari again. "You were right," he nodded at her as her brow arched in question. "Damon. It's Damon – you were right, he's been here all along . . . I just didn't want to face it," he paced along the edges of her property, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "We got into it . . . had an argument. I threw him off my balcony – threw both of us, really – but he's too strong . . . human blood . . . it makes us stronger, faster."

    He looked at her for a moment, taking in her outwardly unruffled composure, her complete lack of surprise at his revelations. "And you're not really shocked by any of this," he realised. She beckoned him forward and, as he wandered over, she waved her hand towards the crow perched on the railing, seeing him freeze in shock . . . Damon! "Wha' – do you – his – it's his?" he stuttered as he tried to form the words, and then he gave up as she shot him 'The Look'. Of course it was Damon – his brother may not have said anything tonight in regards to Arianna, but Stefan should have known better than to assume that that meant he didn't know about her.  _How much_  he knew, that was a whole other thing, though.

    Ari flicked her fingers at the raven, shooing it away. "You can go, now," she told it, not bothering to watch as the raven took off and vanished into the night, while she focussed on Stefan. "Are you alright?" she asked, looking him up and down.

    He snorted. "Yeah – it's fine. Typical Salvatore brotherhood stuff, whatever," he shrugged dismissively. "I just wanted to check in with you, let you know that you really hit the nail on the head with this, before I went to see, uh . . ." he slanted his head back towards the road, in the direction of a particular house.

    Ari grinned cheekily. ". . . All things sad, sweet, and brunette," she finished for him, repeating her words to him at the party earlier. He grinned and nodded. "Good. I think it will be good for her, and for you."

    She thought back to those moments when Jenna had dropped her off – Jeremy had hopped out to escort her to her front door, where they spent a couple of minutes just holding on tight. He'd finally pulled back, his eyes shiny with tears that she suspected weren't just about what had happened to Vicki, and she'd patted his cheek softly in farewell. She and Jenna had already arranged for her to get a ride to school in Jenna's car tomorrow morning, so they simply said goodnight as the older woman drove the short distance down the street to their home.

    She tilted her head back down the road. "Go to her, might as well take something good from tonight's mess," she wiped her hand down her face and fought off a jaw-cracking yawn as he stared at her incredulously.

    "Something good . . . after all of this? After . . ." he gestured to where the crow had been sitting. ". . . After finding out that my psychotic, murderous brother is on the loose?"

    "Are you gonna be able to resolve that tonight?" Ari eyed him as he sputtered, before finally giving in to her logic with a scowl.

    "Well . . . no."

    "Then let it go . . . just for one night. Put it away . . . for now. Let Elena Gilbert soothe your worries, and put a smile on your face. I will guarantee you that, if nothing else, letting Damon see you be happy in the face of his best attempts at intimidation will drive him _crazy_ ," she told him, closing her eyes and leaning back against the swing.

    "Uh, yeah, about that. Crazy Damon is not a good thing. People tend to die horribly when Damon blows up," he explained sheepishly, as if he believed that his brother's murderous insanity was somehow his fault.

    "I hate to tell you this, Stefan, but two people are already dead – and someone that I care about was  _nearly_  killed tonight – so what's the difference? He'll kill, either way," she stated that harsh truth unflinchingly.

    Stefan huffed out a bitter chuckle. "The difference? The difference is in the level of suffering that these people will experience before they die. Damon feeds on human blood – and most of the time his victims will die of their blood-loss – but if he starts killing just to make a point . . . just to drive it home to me how helpless I am to stop him from doing whatever he wants . . ." he shrugged, cursing his inability to curb Damon's behaviour in any way – in fact, any interference on his part usually meant that Damon started lashing out worse than before to punish him for it.

    "First of all, Stefan, Damon is a grown man, who is more than capable of taking the blame for his own actions, so stop trying to place his responsibility on your own shoulders," Ari told him flatly. "Second, if and when a vampire decides to go on a rampage, then that's what they'll do, regardless of anyone else's feelings or input. The only thing that others can be responsible for are their own choices in handling the situation . . . either by stopping them – permanently – or getting the hell outta Dodge and not coming back until they get bored and get over themselves. And lastly, people dying horrible, violent deaths isn't anything new – it's tragic and pathetic – you only have to turn on the 6pm news to see it . . . wars, conflicts, assassinations – hell, people kill other people every bloody day over petty pocket change. Sad, yet true."

    Stefan had to concede that – as technology advanced, sometimes it felt like civilisation receded – the law of the jungle . . . 'kill or be killed' was the only rule that people appeared to live by. "That's one way to look at it, but it doesn't really make me feel any better about my brother's presence here in town. I'll take your advice though, tomorrow is soon enough to start panicking.

    "What about you? Have you heard anything – about Vicki?" he asked, peering at her with concern – her usually golden skin was pale and wan, while her eyes had dark, bruise-like shadows underneath – she looked exhausted, both mentally and physically.

    "Me? No, I haven't heard anything, so I'm holding on to the old cliché of no news being good news. I'm gonna head inside shortly, and force myself to sleep – I know I've got a sledgehammer in there somewhere," she mused as he snorted with reluctant amusement. "Got a BIG day tomorrow," she quirked her eyebrows as he cocked his head in curiosity. "Languages, remember, double period tomorrow right after lunch. Miss Hilton wants us to at least be narrowing down our list of choices for the Extinct language we're going to base our project on, plus hammering out our schedules for working together on it.

    "Funny, how we never got a chance to talk about that tonight," her smile was tight as he shook his head – hell, what a night! What an epic Charlie-Foxtrot! "And if we keep standing around out here, I'm never gonna get to sleep – and you won't get the chance to snuggle up with Elena," she drew out the name light-heartedly as he nodded his head. It was getting late – and he really wanted to see her before he went home again.

    He turned to go, and Ari had a sudden flashback to her dream the night before – oh, no! She rolled her eyes at her own hitherto unknown capability for mawkish sentimentality. There had to be something in the water around here . . . "Hey!" she watched him pause, and then twist around to stare at her in query. She shook her head in exasperation. "Take this for what it is, and enjoy this vision of me acting like a soppy romantic fool – because it won't last, I just don't DO that stuff – but," she huffed out heavily, muttering direly about how this had to be worse than any Disney production made EVER. She repeated to him the words of a man that she'd seen only in her dreams, a man who seemed so real to her when she was deeply asleep, a man that she felt like she had truly known, and loved, in another lifetime – a thousand years ago. "I challenge you . . . to live for the moment . . . to seek out and embrace what makes you laugh, what  _excites_  you . . . I challenge you to make that choice . . . even when you feel like it can't possibly last, that the world is gonna come crashing in on you for letting your guard down . . . who cares, just do it . . . dare to be happy.

    "Now go away, Salvatore, go far, far away – 'cause I'm about to run inside and puke from all this syrupy sweetness . . . and gargle with straight bleach for an hour to wash that foul nastiness outta my mouth!" she gagged ominously as Stefan gaped at her in disbelief, before he threw his head back and just let the laughter roll out. They laughed together for a moment until he followed his orders and snapped her a smart-alec salute as he left, chuckling most of the way down the street until he finally managed to stifle himself a couple of houses away from Elena's home.

    Ari watched him head down the quiet street, listening to his receding laughter, before ambling inside with Maarit at her heels. Once inside she finally let the barriers fall, allowed herself the luxury of really feeling, for the first time since she'd screamed in despair at discovering Vicki lying on the ground in the woods with blood pouring from her throat. She'd had to shut it all away, suppress her emotions, so that she could think clearly and function efficiently to help her friend. Shuddering, she remembered the fear and panic that she had felt, that she'd had to force back to keep her mind clear and cold, and stop her hands from shaking, in order to be of any use to Vicki, to Matt, to anybody.

    Her face hardened in rage as she thought back on everything that she had seen and everything that she had  _sensed_  – Damon Salvatore had attacked someone that she looked out for, someone that she considered a friend, and she was not happy about it. If Stefan couldn't find a way to control his brother, then she would. Permanently.

* * *

**'Cause I said**   
**I dare you to be happy**   
**Woah Woah**   
**I dare you to be happy**   
**Yeah**   
**Woah Woah Woah Yeah, Woah Woah**   
**I dare you to be happy**   
**Woah Woah**   
**I dare you to be happy**   
**Woah Woah**   
**I dare you to be happy**   
**Yeah**   
**Woah Oh**

**'Cause I said**   
**I dare you to be happy**   
**Oh Woah**   
**I dare you Oh, Woah**   
**I dare you to be happy**   
**Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah**   
**I dare you to be happy**   
**Yeah, to be happy, Yeah**   
**Oh yes be happy, Yeah**   
**To be happy, Yeah**

 

* * *

**Definitions**

Schlep (Yiddish): (literal) carry, haul. It has also become a slang term in North America: when Tiki is thinking about forcing Ari to  _schlep_ her butt off the table, basically she's saying that she wants Ari to piss off, pardon my bluntness :)

Limey (English): a popular slang term used by Americans for a British person. Hey, I'm an Aussie - down here we just call 'em Poms!

Hhhhmmmmmmm!Aaaaaahhhhhh!Sssteffffann!Sssssalvaaaatooooooore!iiiiiiiisssssss!pussssssyyyyyy! _whipped_!byyyyyyyy!Eleeeeeeeeeennnnnnnna!Giiiiiiilberrrrrrrrrrrrrrt!Heeeeee!waaaaaaantsssss!toooooo!beeeee!herrrrrrrr!knnnnnnnight!innnnnnnnn!ssssssssshininnnnnnng!armmmmmmmmmmourrrrr!aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand!ssssssssavvvvvvvvvvvvve!herrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!ffffffffrrrrrrrrrrommmmmm!theeeeeeeee!hiiiiiiiiiiisssssstoryyyyyyyyyyyy!mmmmmonnnnnnnnsterrrrrrrrrr!Hhhhmmmmmmm! (English?) : It's alright, I'm joking, it IS English, kind of. I put it down here 'cause I wanted to ask people how long it took them to actually work it out - or are there still those of you who are still a little confused? I couldn't help myself, I had to put it in . . . it made me laugh. Hopefully, you'll find some amusement as well, but if not . . . OH, WELL! Can't please everyone.

Sotto Voce (Italian): (literal) under the voice. Basically, to speak very softly. I used to do this as a teenager, telling my mum exactly what I thought of her so that she couldn't actually hear me and slap me 'round the ear - don't get me wrong, I love my mummy :) but this woman, she drives me  _crazy_!

Hypovolemia  _aka_ Hypovolemic shock: Hypovolemia is a medical condition where your blood volume is decreased. In some cases, such as in the fictional case of Vicki Donovan, it is caused by loss of blood, either externally or from internal bleeding.

****Treatment of this condition is best left to the medical professionals - and I am in no way, shape or form a medical professional, so my descriptions come purely from what I have read online on WIKIPEDIA, plus a couple of Health and Medicine websites, for any mistakes I have madeI apologise for, but please remember that, above all - this is a work of FICTION.****

**Songs In Chapter**

Dare to be Happy - Tina Arena

You Learn - Alanis Morissette

Highway to Hell - AC/DC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good, bad, indifferent? Let me know . . .
> 
> Also, if the song lyrics scattered throughout are driving everybody crazy, tell me so, I'll eliminate them from future chapters and limit myself to just naming the music that certain characters might be listening to at times.
> 
> From the response, or the lack thereof, to this chapter on ff.net, people seem pretty ambivalent about this one :( oh well. If you hate it, tell me so, it happens. But if you don't like it, why? Let me know . . .


	11. Chapter 10: If I Had A . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arianna Parrish - the woman of the hour; the Alpha Witch from the British Isles bares her teeth at lesser challengers to her title of 'B*tch On Wheels' and a dangerous encounter . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Please see first chapter.  
> WARNINGS: Mild Language; Mild Violence; References to Violence; Sexual References; Drug References; Weird Pranks?

Mystic Falls High School 

September 2009, 12:25pm 

_Rrrrrriiiiinnnggggg!_

    On hearing the bell for lunch go off, Ari finally gave up on trying to focus on her textbook, setting it aside. She fished around in her bag, pulling out her wrapped sandwich along with her sunglasses, slipping them on to block out the bright glare of the sun. She just couldn't concentrate today; ever since she'd woken up this morning she'd felt slightly off-balance, out of step with the world, and she felt that it had something to do with those dreams, the ones that she couldn't quite recall, no matter how much she concentrated. Every time she tried, she was left with vague, blurred impressions of people and places that she didn't know, and that she couldn't quite bring into focus – along with a pounding head, an uneasy stomach and a near-irresistible urge to go back to bed and pull the covers over her head.

    Impatient with herself, she closed her eyes, shifting until she was lying comfortably against the unyielding wood of the table as indistinct, scattered flashes of the dreams from the previous night played through her mind . . .

* * *

 _. . . Trailing through the unfamiliar hallways, she never hesitated as she searched for the door that she somehow knew would be there, even though she had never seen this place before in her life. She_ knew _that He was here . . ._

_. . . She could hear her heart pounding fiercely . . . fear . . . ? Anticipation . . . ? Excitement . . . ? She couldn't be sure – but she knew that if she could hear her own pulse racing then so could He, even through this door . . ._

_. . . Stepping into the room as the dark-haired man at the head of the dining table at the far end of the room rose from His chair, His dark-hazel eyes narrowed at her in suspicion, she smirked coolly, raising her chin at Him and strolling inside as though she belonged there. "Las Vegas? Of all the places in the world, I never would have thought it of You, congratulations, You have succeeded in surprising me," she blew Him a mocking kiss of respect as His head tilted curiously at her, not aggressive or hostile – not yet, she would do her utmost to change that, though, to pierce that insufferable sense of self-assured superiority that He wore like armour before she was through here tonight, and rattle His poise and decorum with the greatest of pleasure. "It's been a while for me, but I still remember – oh, the Blackjack at Casino Royale, the dancing at Empire – what a weekend!" she threw her head back and laughed exultantly, every male in the room suddenly finding himself in some marked degree of discomfort at the rich, seductive peals ringing through the room . . ._

_. . . "What is this? Who_ are  _you?" He demanded, drawing Himself up to His full, impressive height as He glared down the end of His nose at her, His lithe, powerful form poised and still – too still. Though He appeared to be relaxed and calm, if not a little annoyed at her invasion of His home, she was not a fool, she knew Him so well . . ._

_. . . She could see the way the hand He had left on the table as He stood up had tensed slightly, the slight paling of the fingertips as He pressed harder on the surface – perhaps preparing to launch Himself over the length of the polished wood at her if He didn't receive the answers that He so clearly wanted from her . . ._

_. . . She clicked her tongue chidingly. "For shame, old friend, that You do not recognise me when I have come all this way . . . I suppose that I should not be surprised . . ." smirking tauntingly as she watched Him push away from the table and tuck His hand in the pocket of the designer three-piece suit that He was wearing – the very essence of calm and collected . . . unless one were to take note of the tautness in His shoulders, the predatory set of His features as He observed her intently . . ._

_. . . "Men really are the most oblivious of creatures, failing to look beneath the surface in favour of seeing only what they wish to see." . . ._

_. . . "I will offer you one last chance – tell Me who you are, or this-" He clicked His fingers warningly at one vampire, who had half-risen from his chair, with a snarl twisting his face at her perceived disrespect towards his superior. "-Will get very messy, very quickly, and I do despise mess." . . ._

_. . . "I can see that You have Your pets extremely well-trained, old friend – well done! The Master snaps-" she copied His gesture mockingly. "-His fingers . . . and the dogs obey." Her eyes cut sideways to the dark-skinned man on the other side of the table, three seats down from the end closest to her – he hadn't taken his eyes off her since she'd walked into the room. "Well, warlock, I could feel your magic probing at me – what have you discovered?_

    " _Please, Dr. Martin . . ." he flinched slightly at hearing her call him by his formal title – how much did she know? ". . . Do enlighten our dear friend for, as we both know, He hates to be confused about anything, it disrupts His incessant campaign to assert His control over His environment at all times – interferes with the digestion." . . ._

 _. . . His face contorted in fury as He leaned forward slightly, then it seemed as if His entire body_ blurred _. "SIR!" the warlock called out desperately to Him . . ._

_. . . "Please, Sir, you cannot hurt her," he gabbled quickly, hoping to avoid having the ancient vampire's fury turn on him._

    " _And . . . why is that?" the question, delivered with the utmost civility and aplomb, warned him that his answer had better be entirely satisfactory – the only times that the Old One only ever sounded as smooth and unruffled as this was when He was about to utterly annihilate someone . . ._

 _. . . "Because she's not really here . . . it's incredible, this – this –_ illusion _, so complex and extremely detailed . . . an astral projection of sorts . . . such control, I don't know of anyone who could do this . . . not so flawlessly." . . ._

_. . . "You are sure of this?" it wasn't really a question, but the warlock nodded his head anyway, standing by his analysis of her presence here. He turned back to stare at her, the hairs on the back of His neck prickling in anticipation and – dare He say it – hope? Surely only one Witch could be capable of such a feat – and only SHE would be so bold, so indifferent to any possible consequences of trespassing in His home in such a way . . . Him, an Original . . ._

_. . . Stepping towards her He lifted His hand as though to touch her, or perhaps in some manner of silent offer . . ._

_. . . His eyes flared in alarm, the pupils dilating, as she began to fade right in front of them – NO! She couldn't leave, not now! He stepped closer, His hand rising as if to take her arm, to keep her here, with Him . . ._

_. . . Her hand lifted, her fingers stretching out towards His, reaching for Him, even as the projection of her form wavered like smoke. Her lips parted, her voice sounding like a faint echo from far away, "Hide and seek, my old friend?" her mouth quirking into an incredibly familiar – yet near-forgotten – mischievous grin, the tawny eyes suddenly shifting to that unmistakable, unique shade of purest green, even as she evaporated like mist in the morning sunlight, her last taunt lingering in the air as she vanished. "Catch me if you can . . ."_

_His hand grasped uselessly at the air where she had been standing not a second ago; still reaching for her though she was gone. "Witchling?" . . ._

* * *

    "Arianna . . . Arrrrriannnnaaaa?" Drawn from her daydreaming, Ari's lips curved very slightly at the corners when she heard her name being pronounced in that drawn-out, teasing whine, as though it was not the first time that she'd been called on. Encouraged by the minute signs of awareness, the speaker continued, "Earth to Planet Parrish – anybody home?" She tilted her head back, enjoying the faint tickle of warmth on her face from the sun as she continued to laze against the wood, seemingly ignoring the plaintive tone as the irritated girl and her companion shared an exasperated look at her utter lack of haste in acknowledging their presence.

    Caroline's cheeks were flushing pinkly with her ire before Ari relented, stretching languidly, as she sat up and pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head while she grinned at them. Bonnie just shook her head at her antics. "Have a nice nap, did you?" she inquired smoothly, with just a trace of sarcasm, while Caroline snorted. Ari only smiled placidly.

    "Very comfortable," she patted the timber surface fondly as Bonnie just grinned reluctantly back at her, unable to stay annoyed with the charismatic young woman. She looked down in chagrin, hastily straightening out her lips, when Caroline glared at her for surrendering to Ari's charm so easily. Turning back to Ari, Caroline looked down her nose at her sternly as she sat up straight, with her hands placed demurely in her lap and her expression appropriately solemn, awaiting her censure. Caroline snorted inwardly – yeah right! Her face might have been angelic, but her eyes . . . her eyes had the devil in them!

    "Whatever! We only wanted to ask if you wanted some company for lunch?" she waved her hand at the wooden bench where Ari had propped her feet when she sat up. "As long as you're not too busy working on your tan?" she finally cracked a small grin as Ari's eyes sparkled at her teasing. Wrinkling her nose light-heartedly at Caroline's banter, Ari shook her head and heaved a great sigh as though it was an incredibly difficult sacrifice for her to make.

    "Sure, go ahead," she beckoned them forward invitingly, lifting her feet off the bench to sit cross-legged, and waving them into the seats while they settled in with a smile. "What are friends for?"

    They grinned cheerfully while they settled themselves on the bench, before Caroline finally popped the question she'd been dying to ask. "So . . . it seems that Tiki and her pals have been giving you the hard eye, at least they were when we wandered over to join you . . . ?"

    Her head snapped up at that, looking beyond them as she pinned someone back there with a dark look. Eyes narrowed, her whole attitude shifted to one of unswerving intimidation as Bonnie and Caroline shared a glance of wary confusion, before swivelling to look just in time to see Tiki backing off fast, along with some of the reserve members from the basketball team.

    Bonnie faced Ari again, brows arched. "Wow!" she breathed. "What the hell, Parrish, why the Eyes of Doom?" the tawny head fell back as Ari groaned in disgust.

    "Those idiots!" she muttered darkly. "As far as I'm concerned, they're lucky I let them go with only a look!" Caroline burst out laughing as Ari shook her head in disbelief – how anyone that idiotic had ever been permitted to graduate from middle school, she'd never know! 'It's TIKI, not  _Twiggy_!' the words from the previous day echoed in her eyes as she snorted and flapped her hand dismissively, waving away any further contemplation of that encounter, unwilling to tempt fate and possibly suffer any additional brain-damage-by-association with those twits.

    Bonnie still wanted answers, though. "Spill it, Parrish," she ordered briskly. "We'd already heard that you had a little tiff yesterday, after school, but seeing as all of you still appear to be holding a grudge . . . ?"

    "Uh-huh, yeah, I heard that our British buddy holds a bias against cheerleaders and lettermen," Caroline chipped in, pouting at Ari in disappointment.

    Ari snorted disdainfully. "You're kidding, right?" they just stared back at her. Heaving a sigh, she rolled her eyes heavenwards, praying for intervention. "From what I've gathered, the two of you are both members of the cheerleading squad, along with Miss Gilbert, although I did hear that her attendance has been spotty as of late, for obvious reasons," she shrugged as they nodded. "And Caroline is actually the Captain, this will be your second year, Vice-Captain the year before last," they nodded again in confirmation of her summary of the facts thus far. "And I think that's great. Couldn't have been easy, becoming Captain as a sophomore – and actually leading your team to victory in the State Championships last year!" she smiled appreciatively as Caroline blushed. "I'm betting that you worked really hard, pushed your team to take it up to that level . . . but I'm also sure that, when you introduce yourself to people, you don't lead off by saying, 'Hi, I'm a Cheerleader at Mystic Falls High School, and we were the Statewide Champions for 2008!'"

    Caroline shook her head with a grimace, while Bonnie shuddered in revulsion. "NO! God – it wasn't like we weren't really happy about it and we definitely talked it up for weeks afterward! But, we never would've presented ourselves as just that – no way!" Bonnie just stared up at Ari in puzzlement. "Why? What does that have to do with Tiki?"

    Ari pointed over to where the girl in question had taken cover amongst the groups of girls hanging around the basketball courts, hoping to make time with any of the players involved in the fiercely contested two-on-two games. She smirked derisively. "Whataya wanna bet that Twiggy and her crew did just that – are probably still doing that – basing their entire social identities around the fact that they're cheerleaders, and half of them are most likely boffing – or hoping to boff – one, or some, of the football players, to boost their reps."

    They thought about it for a minute. "I'm not saying that you're right – presuming that 'boffing' means what I'm pretty sure it means," Caroline said hesitantly. "But even so – why do you care?"

    Ari burst out laughing uproariously, falling backwards on the table as she shouted in merriment. Just about everyone within earshot turned to stare, wondering what the joke was, as Caroline stood up huffily to poke the chortling girl with a finger while she rolled around, nearly choking on her giggles. "It's not THAT funny!"

    She finally managed to calm down a little, hoisting herself back up as she snorted a couple of times, fighting down the guffaws while she wiped at her eyes and breathed deeply a few times, still beaming widely. "I could not care less whether they're banging the entire squad like a freight train under the bleachers after every game. If they've actually got that kind of stamina . . ." pausing as Bonnie sucked in a scandalised breath. ". . . Well, good for them – the only thing I objected to, was them trying to take a position I'd claimed for myself," she patted the table again, smirking at their bewilderment. "This is a  _very nice_  table," folding her hands and waiting for them to ask the obvious question.

    Caroline looked as though she'd just bitten into a prune. "All that fuss – over a table?" Bonnie's face showed that she just didn't get it either. Ari sighed patiently – watch and learn, girls, let the master show you the way!

    She tapped the spaces on either side of her seat invitingly. Seeing them hesitate, she indicated again. "Come on, sit," gesturing them up. Slowly, they settled next to her, Caroline on the right, Bonnie to her left. "Alright, look around," waving her arm to point out the area around them. "Feast your eyes on absolutely everything that you can see – and tell me what you've discovered . . ." putting her hand back down as she gripped the edge of the table and waggled her brows in enticement. Exhaling, her face unconvinced, Bonnie started peering around, taking it all in, but not finding what Ari was talking about.

    Caroline, on the other hand, had a look of dawning wonder on her face as her eyes darted around. "You can see everything!' she exclaimed, spinning around as she gaped at Ari. Seeing Bonnie's confusion, she flapped her hands excitedly. "Bon, look . . . just look around!" she shook her head, but stood up on the bench, shading her eyes as she stared around for the second time, eyes widening as it finally sank in. This particular table was perfectly positioned to see almost everything on the school grounds, from the outer sports fields, to most of the buildings; the entire square was laid out before them from this vantage point. About the only things that you couldn't view from here were the Pit (thank the Heavens for small favours – that place was  _really_  well-named) and some of the Tech and Workshop structures around the back from the main layout of the school; other than that, this had to be the best view in the whole place, and Ari had laid claim to it on her second day of school!

    "That's amazing!" she breathed, her smile incredulous as she sank back onto the table, laughing quietly in disbelief as Caroline clapped her hands gleefully. "But . . . why harp on about their choice of extracurriculars, then?" she questioned uncertainly as Ari arched a brow enquiringly. "'Papershakers' and 'jockstraps'?" she clarified with a laughing shake of her head – honestly, what would this chick come up with next?

    Ari sniggered in realisation. Before she could explain, though, Caroline had considered something that had her all but dancing on the spot as she pleaded, "Ooh, before you say anything, I just gotta ask!" she hopped back onto the bench seat, shuffling around on her knees to face Ari, eyes wide and hands clasped underneath her chin as she appealed to the gobsmacked girl. "Please, PLEASE, oh wise Jedi, behold your humble Padawan and teach me your ways?"

    "Care!"

    "What? Don't tell me that you weren't wishing that 'looks could kill' when we had that idiot Kimi Freedman at summer camp – she was just a freshman, and she already thought that she knew it all and didn't even need to practice . . . !" Caroline trailed off when Bonnie just looked at her doubtfully and she muttered huffily, "Fine, whatever!"

    Ari just sat there, grinning, with her sandwich lying forgotten in her lap as she listened to their good-natured ragging. Sniggering loudly at Caroline's petulance, she took a sip of her soft-drink as they looked back to her. She gestured with the bottle in her hand in the direction of where Tiki and her followers had been standing before they ran off. "I was taking exception to a pack of deluded morons, not . . ." she flourished her hands expressively to Bonnie, thankful that she'd remembered to replace the lid on her bottle. ". . . Their preferences in extracurriculars, like you said.

    "It's the people who take it too far – the twits who turn themselves into the poster-children for anorexia and steroid abuse, and then strut around the place acting as if looking like a stiff breeze could launch you into the upper atmosphere, or running headfirst into a concrete barrier would hurt the wall more than your skull, are all signs of a healthy diet and lifestyle – that's what I have a problem with!"

    Sucking in a deep breath, she puffed out her cheeks for a moment as she held it, and then blew it out as her shoulders relaxed. "And that's it for me and my soapbox!" she gestured grandly as Bonnie just stared at her, mouth agape. Caroline's expression said she didn't know whether to take umbrage on behalf of her teammates, or to stand up and applaud enthusiastically – it wasn't as if she herself had never warned Tiki about the difference between maintaining a slim but still  _healthy_  body-weight as was necessary for Tiki's position as a 'flyer', and having the same body-fat ratio as the average starving child of a Third World country!

    "Wow, Arianna. Tell us how you really feel," Bonnie muttered, still a bit stunned. "No, really, don't hold back – repression is NOT the way to handle your emotions!" Caroline and Ari stared momentarily – and then Ari rolled her eyes a little when Caroline smirked and waved her hand as if to say, 'I'll just let you handle this, shall I?'

    Ari just looked at her drolly, before turning her attention back to Bonnie with a small, enigmatic smile curling the edges of her full mouth. "Unlike Little Miss Twiggy and her band of half-starved urchins – I repress nothing!" Bonnie sucked in her breath and held it as she sternly fought off the urge to grin at the cheeky retort. "If I'm sad, I cry; when I'm angry, I scream and yell; if I'm happy, then I laugh and sing; and, when I'm hungry, I will bloody well eat my fill!"

    Caroline couldn't help herself; she stood up and applauded ecstatically, laughing her head off when she saw the stunned looks from everyone around them – who cares? Bonnie gave up on trying to act as the mature, responsible one out of the trio and giggled madly, clapping right along with Caroline as Ari stood up on the table and swept a flourishing bow while every kid on the square just watched in puzzled fascination at their laughter . . . even the boys playing on the basketball courts paused to sneak a glance as they mopped away the sweat from their exertions.

    They quit clapping as Ari plonked herself back down on the table again, still laughing, while everyone else slowly went back to whatever it was that they were doing previously. "By my own personal definition; a 'paper-shaker' is a desperate fool who just LIVES to shake those pom-poms – they gotta shake that paper 'cause they can't shake their bum . . . seeing as they don't have one to shake!

    "And a 'jockstrap' is the kind of idiot who is wearing his wedged just  _a little too tight_ , in other words; he's completely up himself because he can't seem to pull that strap out without causing himself major damage!"

    Bonnie and Caroline shared a goggle-eyed look, before grinning and turning back to Ari. Caroline pursed her lips for a moment as she considered something, and then winced slightly as she commented, "Is it bad if I point out the fact that the pom-poms are rubber, not paper, 'cause it lasts longer than paper streamers, and . . . it's just a thought," she hunched her shoulders defensively when they just stared at her, somewhat bug-eyed at her statement.

    Bonnie was shaking her head ruefully as she remarked, "Please don't ever change, Caroline Forbes, it would be a truly sad day if you ever did." Caroline shrugged while Ari took a large gulp from her bottle to stop herself from making any observation whatsoever on the matter –  _rubber_ pom-poms? Well, now she'd heard everything! She ended up snorting Coke from her nose as she couldn't quite suppress her mirth entirely, which set the others off as well, but finally they settled down to eat and chat for the rest of their lunch break.

* * *

    "So what exactly are you and Grams gonna be up to tonight, anyway?" Bonnie spoke up from behind Ari as she concentrated on winding the thick, wavy strands of golden hair into a passable braid.

    Finished with their lunch, they had been lazing around, chatting idly, until Caroline started moaning about wanting hair like Ari's – so thick  _and_  long  _and_  shiny – as she tugged at her fine, silky strands disdainfully. Bonnie had snorted in disgust, telling her to shut up –  _her_  hair was dark, frizzy and absolutely  _impossible_  to grow to any great length unless she wanted to deal with the never-ending breakage  _and_  split-ends  _and_  tangles. Hopping up onto the table, she shifted behind Ari, musing on how as a child she'd always dreamed of being a hairdresser.

    Ari had sat up agreeably, leaning forward slightly as she propped her forearms on her thighs so that Bonnie could start weaving her hair.

    That morning, Bonnie had turned up at the Gilberts' house to pick up Elena for school right before Ari had strolled down from her house to catch the promised ride from Jenna; and Bonnie had taken the opportunity to pass on a message from her Grams – a reminder for Ari about having Sheila over to her home for dinner that evening.

    "Other than dinner, not much . . . Miss Sheila did say that, seeing as it's the night before the Comet rises over the town, tonight is the perfect night to do what she's calling a welcoming ritual of some sort . . . something about opening our hearts and minds to the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to witness a rare celestial event," Ari flourished her hand dramatically as Caroline sniggered from her seat and swung her foot lazily while watching Bonnie poke her tongue out of the side of her mouth in concentration as she held the unfinished braid firmly to wind the next part through.

    "Sounds . . .  _stellar_ ," she cracked as Ari giggled and Bonnie rolled her eyes in disgust at the bad pun. "What? Bon, you  _know_  I don't believe in that stuff!"

    "Whether you really believe it or not, it doesn't really matter," Ari shrugged as Bonnie hissed and poked her shoulder to tell her to stop moving around and messing with her braiding. "Miss Sheila believes it, and it gives her joy to do it, so why not?" she spread her hands in a  _no-big-deal_  gesture for Caroline, seeing as she apparently wasn't permitted to shrug at the moment.

    The other girl pursed her lips, thinking it over, and then conceded the point. "It's not like it's going to do any harm, I guess," she nodded in acquiescence.

    Ari grinned cheekily. "So . . . as long as you don't tell your Mum about the, uh,  _herbal substances_  involved in this little ritual . . ." she winked outrageously as Caroline gaped at her, before snapping her jaw shut as she thought about it for a minute. Bonnie was cracking up, releasing the braid in her hand as she guffawed, and then grabbing at it frantically as she saw it unravelling.

    "No, no, no, no, no, NO!" she muttered desperately, holding the woven strands tightly as she attempted to repair the damage. "Crap!"

    Caroline was still somewhat dumbstruck. "Wait a minute! You're telling me that, all this time, all these 'rituals' that Grams Bennett was always trying to talk us into – they were just excuses to sit around in a circle, getting high, and chanting some witchy, mumbo-jumbo version of 'Kumbaya'!" she squawked indignantly, mouth agape once more. Ari and Bonnie hushed her desperately, their eyes darting around in horror at the other students hanging out in the square, only relaxing when it appeared that no one had heard Caroline's outburst.

    "Whoa, Forbes! When I said DO NOT tell your Mum, y'know, the  _Sheriff_ , I also meant . . .  _don't tell the whole school_  . . . seeing as with all the gossip around here, word might get back to her, anyway," Ari hissed at her, rolling her eyes in disbelief as Bonnie plonked her head in the space between Ari's shoulders and shook it incredulously.

    Caroline clapped her hand over her mouth in dismay – a bit late now! "Sorry!" she gasped, flapping her free hand apologetically. "I swear, I didn't mean to."

    "It's alright, Forbes,  _chill_ ," Ari huffed out a laugh as Caroline hunched her shoulders like she was expecting a lecture. "No one heard-"

    "-Well, this all looks very cosy," their heads snapped up as Stefan wandered over, hands in his pockets as he grinned at them. Propping his hip on the corner of the table, he surveyed the three of them; their expressions ranging from gobsmacked (Bonnie), to surprise swiftly becoming a friendly grin (Ari), and then dismayed and embarrassed (Caroline). He winced inwardly as he thought that she must be thinking back to the last time he'd spoken with her – his adamant rejection of her offer the previous evening – and, clearing his throat awkwardly, he pressed forward with his interjection, looking to Ari. "I hope you don't mind the interruption, but, I believe I owe you a few apologies," her brows arched inquisitively.

    "Uh, going in reverse order, last night . . ." he shifted his shoulders tensely. ". . . I totally flaked on you out there in the woods," he spread his hands in a wordless appeal for understanding as he included Bonnie and Caroline in his contrition. "There I was, racing out there, ready to be your knight in shining armour – and then you come running right up to me with Vicki Donovan in your arms, and she's covered in blood."

    He shook his head in self-recrimination. "Yeah, that was the end for me . . ." he looked over at Bonnie as her face screwed up in confusion. ". . . Me – blood – not a great combination," he explained – it wasn't like it was a lie, it just wasn't the whole truth. She gave him a commiserating smile as Caroline finally gathered her courage and piped up.

    "Oh, you weren't the only one who had problems last night," she blushed heavily as he stared at her questioningly, flustered by his attention. Glancing towards Ari, she shrugged in embarrassment. "I was so drunk last night, I couldn't even think straight, let alone walk properly – when you came out of the woods with Vicki, I nearly passed out.

    "I actually ended up having to sit down, I couldn't move, not even when you called out for help and Elena and Bonnie were running around collecting jackets and everything for her," she mumbled, putting her head in her hands as she wallowed in self-pity, remembering how weak and scared she had been at seeing Matt's sister like that, bleeding and unconscious. She heard the shuffle of fabric on wood just as Ari's hand covered her shoulder.

    "Can I tell you a secret, Caroline?" Ari smiled gently at her, patting her shoulder, as Caroline nodded uncertainly. "I'm actually kinda grateful that you didn't come rushing over – like every other idiot seemed to that night!" she huffed out in exasperation, snorting at the memory of having to shout and shove her way through the crowd of interested onlookers to get Vicki to a table where they could safely lay her down – morons! "I had my hands full as it was . . . I managed to keep Matt outta the way by having him on the phone with 911, Spike was freaking out until I got him to keep the pressure on that bite to try and slow the bleeding, and as for Lockwood, well – he's not my favourite person around here, but he ended up being useful as a bodyguard; keeping everyone else out of the way so that I could focus on Wild Thing.

    "There was nothing else that anybody could do until the ambulance got there, all we could do was try and stop the bleeding, and keep her warm," she concluded as Caroline just shook her head dolefully.

    "But I was  _useless_. I totally lost it."

    "So did I." Ari's flat statement drew all of their eyes to her as she shrugged tensely. "I flipped – nearly had a stroke – when I saw her out in the woods; Maarit was nudging her with her nose, like she was trying to wake her up – and I went blank, I couldn't think of what to do, couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she was just lying there like she was . . ." trailing off, she licked her dry lips and rolled her head on her neck, trying to relieve the strain that had built up at the reminder of Vicki's attack.

    "Nobody should feel bad about what they did or didn't do, last night," she continued, finally cracking her neck on one side and rolling it the other way to repeat the move. "It was a horrible scene . . . it shouldn't have happened," giving Stefan a sideways glance where Bonnie and Caroline couldn't see. "But it did. What matters now is that Wild Thing is fine, we know that because Matt is here today which he would NOT be if he thought, even for a second, that she wasn't gonna be alright."

    "You talked to him, right?" Bonnie leaned around to meet her eyes. "What did he say?"

    "After we waved you and Elena off, Jenna had only driven to the end of the street when Matt called my mobile, uh,  _cell-_ phone. Said they gave her an I.V. full of antibiotics and told him that the best thing for her was just to rest, so there was no point in him sticking around to watch her sleep all day.

    "He rang to let me know that he was heading home to get ready for school, so I could collect my car from the garage. Jenna was really great about it, dropped me off and nearly hugged him to death, telling him to give Vicki her best wishes," Ari grinned, remembering Matt's awkward yet grateful smile as Jenna embraced him sympathetically.

    "Actually, speaking of everyone's favourite little heroine, where is Her Highness, Queen Maarit?" Stefan questioned, trying to lighten the glum atmosphere a bit – it worked. Caroline perked up immediately, staring around, peering under the table as if expecting to see a fluffy tail swishing around under there.

    "Home," Ari retorted drolly. "A party is one thing, but  _school_ ," she shook her head. "She's smarter than all of us; you won't find her within a mile of this place!" They all had a chuckle over that.

    Stefan shifted off the corner he'd been leaning against, moving to prop his arms on either side of Ari's legs as he grinned at her. "Now that  _one_  apology is over with . . ."

    She had to smirk at that. "Yeah, never seen a guy turn so pale that fast – I actually thought that you were gonna pass out," snorting as she remembered him backing off rapidly at the sight of her carrying the blood-soaked form of Vicki.

    He tapped her leg sternly with one finger to bring her back to the subject at hand. "As I was saying, I also must apologise abjectly for my uncouth behaviour yesterday afternoon," he raised his hand solemnly, like he was about to be sworn in. "I was raised better than to put my hands on a lady, and there is just no excuse for what I did," he lowered his head in a show of remorse as she grinned toothily at his dramatics. Caroline frowned as Bonnie just stared in astonishment – WTH?

    "Whataya mean? What happened, and how did I miss this?" Caroline exclaimed, pouting crossly at having missed out on yet another juicy piece of gossip about the new kids. Seriously, she was going to have to give her connections a severe dressing-down for this – they were dropping the ball when it came to these two . . . badly.

    "I pushed her – and she fell off the table," he explained, cringing as they both gasped in dismay. Ari rolled her eyes and poked him in the ribs before she turned to clarify the matter.

    "He was pestering me, so I pulled a prank – and he retaliated," she shrugged dismissively, smirking at their disbelieving looks as she twisted back to poke at Stefan again. He dodged – damn it, his ribs were ticklish! "And I didn't  _fall_  after that little love tap either, Salvatore," she eyed his arms with pursed lips. "Maybe those muscles are just for show . . . ?" he puffed up resentfully at that, flexing his biceps ever so slightly to demonstrate that they actually  _were_  the real thing. The three girls only smirked at his posturing. "I barely felt your 'push', I just decided to go with it and put on a show for the Clone Crew."

    Stefan gave her a sideways look to say 'please explain'. "Twiggy and the Misfits," she elaborated, smiling widely as Bonnie and Caroline cracked up again, Bonnie leaned against Ari's back for support as she howled with laughter, while Caroline's head was slumped on her forearms against the table as her shoulders shook with mirth. Stefan scratched his head in confusion before shrugging – must be a girl thing, he decided.

    "I still maintain that you  _started_  to fall off, though," he asserted with a grin. "You just managed to catch yourself and then turned a tumble into that incredible flip."

    "OH! That part I did hear about!" Caroline squeaked happily, jumping up from her seat as she stared at Ari in awe. "You really did pull off a full reverse Salto . . . from a sitting start, without even stretching first?"

    Ari's tawny eyes were blank as she stared back at the excited girl – what the? She looked to Stefan for aid, only to see that he was every bit as at sea as she was, if not more so. "Um . . . ?"

    Stefan's mouth opened and closed a few times, before he ventured a guess. "I'm . . . going to . . . go with . . . a . . . backwards . . . somersault?" he deduced uncertainly. "Seeing as that's what  _I_  would call what you did, so," he trailed off with a helpless wave.

    "Uh . . . yeah . . . what he said?" Ari shrugged in bewilderment. Caroline rolled her eyes.

    "Ugh, yes! A backwards somersault – that's what I said!" On seeing her exasperation, the other three rapidly came to the mutual, unspoken conclusion that is was best not to comment further, for fear of provoking her.

    Stefan decided to just move on entirely. "About that other apology . . ." Ari nodded agreeably, spreading her hands in a  _go-ahead_ gesture. Stefan bowed his head, the very picture of abject remorse. ". . . So – Miss Arianna Pa-"

    "Ugh! Please," Ari waved her hands dramatically, rolling her eyes. Stefan frowned at her interruption, but she ignored him. "Before you even start, let's just settle the issue of my name here and now – to my friends, I am  _Ari_  – I won't curse my parents for naming me Arianna, but that's only 'cause it's rude to speak ill of the departed," she shuddered as she crossed herself reflexively. "So please, PLEASE, call me Ari.

    "If you're really desperate to be formal, call me Parrish, or Miss Parrish . . . that's what everyone did at boarding school – I don't answer to Arianna, or at least not willingly and not without a lot of wincing, whining and grumbling," she finished decisively, eyeing them all expectantly.

    "Um . . ."

    She leaned forward intently at Stefan's hesitation, narrowing her eyes on his. "If you keep calling me Arianna, I'm going to start calling you . . .  _Stefanie_!"

    He winced in horror, conceding swiftly. "Ari it is."

    "Great!" she clapped her hands cheerfully, and grinned at the others. "So?"

    Bonnie stifled her smirk at Stefan's disquiet. "Fine, but call me Bonnie . . . not Bennett, okay?"

    Caroline was quick to concur. "Caroline, Care, Care-bear, it doesn't matter what you call me, as long as it's not Forbes."

    Ari lifted her hand solemnly. "Deal . . . and – go for it, Salvatore," waving her hand for him to continue with the aborted attempt at expressing his regret.

    Stefan took a deep breath, trying to shake off the cold shiver of dread that had rolled down his spine at her threat of naming him 'Stefanie' . . . he had a feeling that she wasn't joking! "Miss Ari, there is no excuse for a gentleman to lay his hands upon a lady in a violent or hostile manner, so I can offer no justification for my discourtesy in any way.

    "I can only swear that I  _will_  make it up to you, and hope that you can one day forgive me for my trespass," he concluded, holding his breath as he waited for her response.

    Ari tilted her head to the side as she studied him thoughtfully, considering her reply carefully. "Mr. Salvatore, I will accept your gracious apology . . . on one condition," she held up her finger imperiously.

    He bowed his head humbly. "Anything, Miss Ari, just name it."

    She grinned triumphantly. "I wish for you to forgive yourself also – because I know that we have both acknowledged that I was being  _very_  unladylike yesterday!" Bonnie and Caroline watched on in fascination as his shoulders slumped in relief and hilarity as he guffawed loudly.

    He pointed his finger at Ari in admonishment as she poked out her tongue mischievously. "It's still no excuse, provoked or not, I should have found another way to pay you back for that," he shook his finger in warning. "And I will, never doubt it, because I  _owe_  you for what you said! Unladylike," he snorted disdainfully, rolling his eyes heavenwards. "That's _one_  word for it!"

    "Oh, come on!" Caroline interjected spiritedly. "You can't leave us in suspense like this," pointing between herself and Bonnie, who nodded vigorously in agreement. "Share with the class – what did she say?" Stefan teeth clicked shut in a sudden grimace as he eyed Ari in consternation – he was SO not repeating those words in front of females! Call him old-fashioned, but just NO! Not in this lifetime.

    Ari's eyes sparkled with mischief, but she decided to behave – for now. She mimed zipping her lips and throwing away an imaginary key as the two girls groaned in disappointment. Before they could protest though, they were interrupted once more.

    The next person to speak DID shift their attention from Ari's prank of the previous day, although at least two of the people at the table might have wished that she had kept her mouth shut and just walked away! Apparently Tiki had finally gathered her nerve for one more shot at Ari – maybe she thought that with three others there to hold the other girl back, and two of those people being her own squad-mates, then she was safe – more fool her! "Heard you put on quite a show for the guys last night, Parrish!" she sneered spitefully as they all turned to stare at her. Gesturing at the table where Ari was perched with Bonnie behind her, she blurted, "Well – there's your stage,  _Strippah_  – whyn't you give us ALL a little dance? But don't stop with just your shirt this time though, 'kay?"

    Ari would reflect, later on, that if she had just leapt straight over Stefan's head and gone right for the skinny bitch, she could have had her in a split second, seeing as the others were too dumbstruck in that moment to have reacted in time to stop her – but she'd hesitated, fists clenched, as she whipped her head around, searching for something to . . . ah-hah, THERE! Spotting her discarded textbook, she snatched it up and stood simultaneously, turning with her arm thrown back – preparing to launch that book in Miss Twiggy's direction.

    Bonnie's half-stifled squeal alerted Stefan, snapping out of his shock, he spun and swiped the book out of her hand right before she released it; at the same time, Bonnie snagged a handful of Ari's shirt to prevent the enraged girl from taking off after the now-fleeing Tiki. "WHOA, ARI . . . WHOA, CALM DOWN!" she half-bellowed, nearly jerked right off of the table as Ari went to launch herself into a flying start. Thankfully Stefan set himself as a block; using his enhanced strength to hold her back –  _whoo, that girl had some muscle in her when she was mad_ – just enough for Bonnie to plant her bum firmly back on the table, still holding onto Ari's shirt in a death-grip.

    "THAT'S RIGHT, YOU BONE-BAG! JUST KEEP RUNNING . . . BY THE TIME YOU HIT THE CAROLINA BORDER, I JUST MIGHT GET BORED WITH HUNTING YOUR SCRAWNY ARSE DOWN!" Ari roared while shaking her fist menacingly, as Tiki ran for dear life. Growling blackly at Stefan, who only lifted an eyebrow in challenge, she subsided when the object of her wrath was out of sight, grumpily reseating herself on the table and glaring over her shoulder at Bonnie until the girl slowly released her.

    Everyone within earshot of that little quarrel was utterly agape – what the  _hell_  was Tiki thinking? That new English girl was a living _fire-breather_  . . . messing with her was just asking to get burned! They all decided that discretion was the better part of valour, turning their backs to the shell-shocked group staring after Tiki, even as they continued to gossip madly about the altercation within their assorted cliques.

    They all stared at the point that Tiki had been last seen incredulously; Stefan shook his head – hard – as he turned back to the table, wiping his hand over his face as he struggled for words. "Uh, I think I just completely redefined my own personal belief in the meaning of the word  _unladylike_ ," he mumbled, still a little on edge after the almost-confrontation. He whistled soundlessly between his teeth. "There goes a lifetime of teachings – straight down the drain!" swooping his hand in an imitation of a kamikaze dive.

    "Bitch!" Caroline muttered in utter disbelief. "Vicki Donovan nearly  _died_  last night, and there Tiki goes, cracking jokes about what you had to do to try and save her life?" Bonnie shook her head slowly in disgust as Ari snorted.

    "Buncha buzzkills!" she grumbled, glaring between Bonnie and Stefan. "I wasn't gonna kill her," Stefan hummed noncommittally, not believing a word of it. She shot him a wicked smirk. "Maybe I woulda maimed her a little, but only enough to teach her a lesson."

    "Tiki . . . learning from her mistakes – maybe after a refreshing dip into the James River with a two-hundred-pound weight tied to her ankles, but short of that . . ." Caroline quipped, before slapping her hands over her mouth in horrified realisation of what she'd said.

    "CARE!"

    "Don't encourage her!"

    "Sorry, sorry!" Caroline nearly whimpered. "I couldn't help myself – it just slipped out!"

    Stefan groaned through his clenched teeth while Bonnie pursed her lips. "Despite the fact that I just discovered a whole new definition of the word  _brazen_ , with that little exhibition of truly poor manners," shaking his head in amazement. "That doesn't mean, Little Miss Firecracker, that it's a good idea to execute . . . whatever-her-name-was . . . in public!" He bopped Ari on the head lightly with the book in his hands.

    "Firecracker – really?" she gave him her best  _you-really-went-there_  stare, ignoring the tap.

    "Maybe I could suggest it to Elena's brother, I did hear th-"

    "-Don't you dare!" pointing her finger at him warningly, eyes narrowed. Caroline was desperately stifling her giggles, while Bonnie stared unseeingly into the distance, her face carefully blank even as her lips twitched faintly. Stefan only smirked lazily, enjoying her annoyance. She pouted childishly, widening her eyes and giving him the full, puppy-dog effect.

    Content to let her sweat on it a bit – this was a great way to start off his campaign of retribution – he looked down at the book he was still holding, quirking his brows. "You're dedicated," he tapped the textbook against Ari's torso until she took it back, blinking in confusion.

    "What?" It seemed that she was still focussed on the previous discussion of suitable –  _or not_  – epithets.

    He pointed to the text, "Studying during your lunch-break." Her eyes cleared rapidly at that, narrowing on him in affront.

    "Blasphemy and sacrilege!" she shook her finger in rebuke. "Lunchtime is sacrosanct, our one and only break from this academic tedium, and  _you_  accuse  _me_ of squandering my free time on this . . . junk," she returned the favour with the book, rapping him on the head smartly.

    He rolled his eyes, grabbing the book to prevent her from hitting him with it again, "My bad?"

    Blowing out a huffy breath, she explained, "I had Free Study right before lunch, figured I'd get started on the essay we were assigned – and why sit inside when the weather's gorgeous?" she flourished her hand around her to indicate the bright, sunny day. Stefan put his hands up in surrender to her logic just as the bell rang for the end of lunch.

    Heaving a great sigh, Ari hopped off the table and collected her books to take back to her locker. "Double A.P. Language . . . yay!" she cheered sarcastically while Stefan muttered miserably at the luck and Caroline and Bonnie jeered about  _their_  upcoming period – Free Study. Gathering their stuff, they were headed back inside when Stefan came to an abrupt halt as he remembered something. The three girls turned back when they noticed his absence, looking at him quizzically.

    "Did I hear something about you contributing to the delinquency of some poor, sweet, little old lady before?" he arched his brow at Ari with a mischievous grin as she gaped momentarily. Closing her jaw with a decisive click, she slowly turned her head towards Caroline, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide behind Bonnie – seriously? Like that was even possible – Bonnie was a petite 5'3" next to Caroline's long-limbed 5'8" – plus a couple of extra inches due to the wedged heels on her sandals – even apart from the fact that her outfit basically screamed  _look-at-me_ - _you-dweebs-I'm-a-designer-label_!

    "Thank you, Caroline Forbes, thanks  _sooooo_  much!" she muttered sarcastically, before facing Stefan with a wide smile of pseudo-innocence. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about?" lying through her teeth as Stefan raised his eyebrow sceptically.

    "Really?"

    "Really, really!"

    "No idea at all?"

    "Nope."

    Bonnie and Caroline were nearly in stitches listening to Ari's flat, straight-faced denials – when coupled with her wide, guileless golden eyes, her performance was flawless. Honestly, if they hadn't known any better, they might have believed her themselves. Stefan just stared at her narrowly, his eyes glinting with barely suppressed mirth, while she played the part of naive ingénue. Yeah . . . he wasn't born yesterday! "Mmhmm," he hummed doubtfully as she smiled angelically. Giving up, for the moment, he waved her on down the corridor. "We're going to be late if we don't get going, so," they headed off, waving farewell to Caroline and Bonnie as they left for Language Studies.

    They could still hear snatches of the conversation between the duo as they manoeuvred through the crowds of students preparing themselves for the school's afternoon session. "So, you do realise that here in the USA, we have both a state of  _North_  Carolina and also  _South_  Carolina . . . ?" Caroline was tall enough to see over the crowd as Stefan's pointed question had Ari giving him a sidelong glance, a wicked grin curling her lips in reply. Stefan nearly choked on his laughter as they continued walking. ". . . Seriously, that's twisted! You do realise that she might actually try to-"

    Ari's hearty guffaw cut him off as she rubbished that idea immediately. "-On those skinny twigs that she calls legs, I think not!" bumping his shoulder playfully. "She'd be lucky if she made it to the town's limits before she collapsed and . . ." the rest was lost as the pair was swallowed up in the floods of people streaming through the corridors now, frantically trying to get to their respective classrooms before the bell rang.

    Caroline looked back at Bonnie, both of them shaking their heads as they finally began wandering over to the junior's Homeroom for Free Study. "No comment," Bonnie chuckled. Caroline only grinned.

* * *

    Growing bored with having nothing to do apart from counting down the minutes until the bell rang to signal the end of school, Ari leaned over to fossick through her bag, looking for – hah, there it was. Her pencil case yielded a pair of scissors that she used to snip the rubber band in half, before tying it to the prongs of her compass, fashioning a crude slingshot.

    Feeling the weight of more than one pair of curious eyes on her, she glanced to the right to see Bonnie staring at her. She winked surreptitiously, and rolled her head backwards to peer at Matt upside-down as he gave her a  _what-the-hell-are-you-up-to_  stare. Aiming her hand before her with her pointer and middle finger separated in a 'V', she indicated Stefan and Elena, who were currently engaged in a heated staring session complete with dewy eyes and gooey smiles . . . which was just one more reason that Ari was  _dying_  to get out of this room – the lovesick pheromones were getting on her nerves!

    She saw Matt's face acquire a green tinge, whether from nausea, or jealousy, or both, she wasn't sure, and it didn't really matter. Coming upright, she sneaked a glance at Tanner – fully occupied with blathering on about the history of the Comet – and half-turned to lean closer to Matt's desk as she whispered, "Short of finding a cold-tap and a bucket, I figured that . . ." waggling the sling significantly. ". . . This  _could_  give them a hint to quit with the PDA's."

    Hearing a tiny squeak, they both spun to see Bonnie gesturing frantically to her, giving her the  _cut-it-out_ and  _oh-hell-no-you-don't_ signals as much as she could without attracting Tanner's attention. Matt lay across his desk, head down, as he sniggered softly at Bonnie's urgent denials of Ari's intent. Ari only grinned cheekily while Bonnie glared darkly, pointing her finger at the determined blonde in warning – completely ineffectively, of course.

    Amazingly, all of their mostly silent interaction had gone unnoticed by the teacher, and upon facing the front once more, with Bonnie dropping her head on her desk in defeat, Ari could see why – Tanner was focussed on the byplay he'd apparently only just witnessed (really, Professor? Perhaps Captain  _Caveman_  could take a few lessons from Captain  _Obvious_!) between Elena and Stefan, so he was slowly meandering around the desks as he continued to lecture, seemingly casually, about the comet while he headed in to break up the love-fest. She was obviously too late to call them off without notice, but . . . oh, well.

    Leaning back again, she whispered out of the side of her mouth to Matt, "Eraser, quick!" as she held out her hand for it. Matt quickly hunted through his case and handed it over, watching intently as Ari loaded the sling and aimed it at Stefan's oblivious head.  _Sssswaaak!_

    Stefan shot upright in disbelief, as Elena flinched and gasped, on feeling the tiny missile impact with the back of his head. His swift reflexes snatched the offending item out of the air as it rebounded off his skull, quickly slipping it into his jeans' back-pocket to hide the evidence. Ari's hand was lowered out of Tanner's line of sight below her desk as she dismantled the sling, tucking her compass and the band into her bag discreetly as everyone giggled quietly.

    "Are we bothering you, Mr. Salvatore . . . Miss Gilbert . . .  _Miss Parrish_?" the teacher inquired sarcastically, his dark eyes glaring at Ari as she beamed innocently, indicating that he had a fairly good idea of where, and who, the hurled eraser had come from, even though she had made sure to stay out of his line of vision to disguise her actions.

    Elena wiped her hand down her face slowly, desperately attempting to wipe away her uncontrollable grin, as the rest of the students chuckled softly. While she blushed awkwardly at being caught, Stefan aimed a fulminating stare behind him that said – beware, Parrish, this WILL be on the list of things to get even for!

    Before the situation could be resolved, however, the final bell rang, with everyone (other than Tanner, but who was counting him?) letting out huge sighs of relief as they rapidly moved to grab everything and get out.

    Hearing the soft shuffle of fabric – along with a low, melodious chortle – as Ari slipped past him a few rows away, striding towards the door swiftly as she tried to outrun any possible  _immediate_ retribution on his part, Stefan winked mischievously at Elena, who only shook her head ruefully, walking over to join him so they could walk out together.

    Tanner was left standing there, hands on hips, in the quickly vacated room, with his teeth grinding in aggravation . . . oh boy, may the Gods watch out for the next person he encountered, because William Tanner was in the mood to tear strips off of somebody – whether they'd actually earned it or not! Then he remembered – Miss Jenna Sommers was coming in for her appointment in about fifteen minutes – the parent-teacher conference regarding Jeremy Gilbert! His sudden grin had nothing to do with amusement; it looked rather more like the cold baring of teeth offered by a hungry shark circling its wounded prey – poor Jenna!

* * *

    Slouching idly against her car, with her earphones in as she listened to the pounding rock from her I-Pod, Ari waited patiently for Jeremy to show up. He'd texted her about getting a ride to see Vicki, and she'd replied to say that they were better off going home first, to freshen up a little, plus the fact that she had to check on dinner for that night with Sheila Bennett. He'd whined via text for a while – honestly, the fact that she could tell that just by reading words on a screen pretty much said it all – before finally yielding with a lot of grouching . . . ah,  **Emoticons** , they made it so easy for people these days!

    Her lips quirked fondly . . . males could be so petulant at times, and Jeremy certainly wasn't the exception to that rule! She shifted her weight a little as she let the thumping bass pulse through her body with  _Godsmack_ 's  _I Stand Alone_ rumbling through the buds . . .

* * *

 _. . . One down and four to go, she mused, smiling – but she had to take a quick detour – she closed her eyes and concentrated, They wouldn't be too far away . . ._ He _would never allow that. Feeling the pull, she let herself go, following the tug to the ones she sought. Opening her eyes, she found herself in a gloomy, darkened room, possibly the attic – honestly, she sneered distastefully – what a cliché! Peering around, in this form she didn't actually need light to See, she rapidly located the three Sarcophagi . . ._

 _. . . Identical, apart from the stylised runes that marked the identity of the one lying within, They were grouped together as if to keep each other company in Their mystical slumber. Her fingers traced the gilded silver panel that framed the elegant 'R' in runic script – her friend, her_  systir _. She whispered to the wooden chest softly, her words meant for the others as well, "Soon . . . soon . . . I promise, we will be reunited." . . ._

 _. . . Running her hand over the casket that, according to the symbol embossed upon it, carried the one with which she intended to have a rather earnest discussion as soon as was feasible, she cocked her head, golden eyes bright as she stared at the timber piercingly, almost as if she could see through it to the being that lay within, and murmured, "Especially You,_ minn Fyrstr _, You and I must_ speak _." Patting the surface fondly, she stepped back and swept her gaze over the three once more and nodded, a silent affirmation of her vow, before closing her eyes and bidding Them farewell – for now . . ._

_. . . Reappearing in the first room, she looked around and smiled, appreciating the bright sunlight flooding in – a wonderful idea, she approved, having the eastern wall fully glassed-in, overlooking the estate where He currently resided. She pondered for a moment, and then grinned – His studio! Where else would He be on a beautiful morning like this, than indulging His eternal love of art . . ._

_. . . Strolling through the hallways, she didn't wonder at the lack of people roaming around, His subordinates would be well-trained in not entering His wing under any circumstances while He was still present, for fear of inviting His wrath at being disturbed . . ._

_. . . The door was open so she blithely wandered in, watching as His hands froze on the damp clay that He was currently moulding with His sensitive fingers. His foot must have pressed hard on the pedal that turned the potter's wheel when He shot up, the steely eyes blazing, for it suddenly revolved out of control, the ivory clay spattering wildly everywhere – His clothes, the floor and wall, His_ face  _– but He appeared not to notice as He stared at her, His golden-brown cap of curls – cropped closely these days – gleaming in the sunlight as He angled His head aggressively, utterly infuriated by her intrusion. "Was machst du denn hier? Holen Sie sich vor-"_

    " _-Parlez-vous Français?" she countered, smirking as she wandered even further inside, observing intently as His eyes widened and His back stiffened in affront. She shrugged, the image of carefree insolence, as He slitted His eyes dangerously, warning her to leave or face the consequences. Suddenly, His pupils dilated in shock, His nostrils flaring as He finally realised what had been niggling at Him from the moment she entered the room – He could_ see _her,_ hear _her, but – He couldn't_ smell _her! Not possible . . ._

_. . . "Qu'est-ce que vous voulez?" her smile widened at the measured question as He folded His arms over His broad chest and regarded her sullenly. Good . . . He was prepared to play the game with her – for a while . . ._

_. . . Waving her hand dismissively, she stated, "Sorry, couldn't help myself – I don't care to speak French, any more than I do German," her lips curling in amusement as He rolled His eyes and propped His shoulder against the wall, eyeing her coldly._

    " _What do you want?" He clarified, His flat gaze telling her that His patience, never His most notable trait to begin with, was rapidly wearing thin with her diversions._

    " _I know what you said, old friend," she purred goadingly. "I just said that I didn't deign to speak French, not that I couldn't understand," her polished British accent suddenly ringing in her voice as His eyes snapped to hers. "And as for what I'm doing here," she shrugged indifferently, her lips curling into a slight sneer as her golden eyes blazed defiantly. "I suddenly had the irresistible urge to visit with an_ old chum _– forgive me, I didn't realise that it was a crime these days." . . ._

 _. . . She sighed heavily, rolling her eyes in aggravation. "And to think, I held such high hopes for_ You _, after Your brother disappointed me-"_

    " _-Is that why you're here, then, an envoy for HIM?" He interrupted, with his eyes hardening to polished slate. "Well, you can tell my brother-"_

    " _-Do I look like some sort of bloody messenger, to You?" her eyes were liquid amber fire as she snarled in fury at Him. He swallowed, completely disconcerted, it wasn't a sensation that He was very familiar with – and certainly not one that He enjoyed – after living as long as He had, but Odin's Eye,_ this girl _. "If You want to know what He thinks of all of this, here's a thought for You – grow a pair . . . hell, GROW UP, period . . . call Him, and bloody well ask Him, Yourself!" . . ._

 _. . . "I have waited, all this time, for You – ALL OF YOU – to come to me, as You swore You would," her voice was flat, her tawny gaze hard as she looked at Him fiercely, her hand slicing through the air like a blade to silence Him as He went to speak. "_ Enough _! I care not to hear Your excuses and justifications," she stared at Him pitilessly, her mouth twisting in scorn. "_ I _do this because_ I  _swore an oath, and_ I  _honour that, even if others do not – I_ will _fulfil my duty – but beyond that . . ." shrugging apathetically, she turned to stalk back out, hearing Him swiftly move to follow . . . to prevent her from leaving Him. ". . . As_ Your _word appears to mean so little to_ You _, then it seems that I can do nothing to alter the path that You have chosen for Yourself – so be it,_ Sjálfvili _."_

 _Shuddering at the finality that rang through her icy tones, He_ blurred _after her, passing by in a hushed_ whoosh  _of air and spinning to face her, looking her up and down desperately. Was it possible? Could it really be, after all this time? His hand came up, fingers brushing along what should have been her cheek – soft, warm, yielding human skin – but He could feel only a strange, prickling sensation on His skin, an eerie, electric warmth, as though He touched living lightning, encased in gossamer. . . magic! Illusion!_ Neinn _. . . please Gods, no, let her be real, He prayed for the first time in a very long time._ Let it be HER _. . ._

 _. . . Her form shimmered, His breath stuttered in His throat in horror – don't leave Me, He wanted to beg, but His tongue didn't seem to be able to form the words as He watched her slipping away before Him without being able to do anything about it – He was helpless, yet another feeling that He wasn't used to, that He despised with every fibre of His ancient, indestructible being. He watched as her eyes flickered, from amber to that distinctive, hauntingly familiar emerald that He had once known so well – and had never seen again, despite peering into the eyes of so many others in forlorn hope, for over a millennium – and then, between one breath and the next, she was_ gone _, His desperate call echoing off the walls, mocking Him as He stood there alone, willing her to return. "WITCHLING!" . . ._

* * *

    Flickering light and shadow played over the thin skin of her eyelids as she kept her eyes shut, a small grin flirting with the corners of her mouth as she pretended to ignore the mischievous teenager, who was waiting for her to acknowledge his presence, while he fluttered his hand back and forth against the sunlight on her face.

    Seeing the tiny smile, he chuckled warmly. "Daydreaming, Parrish?" only realising after he had spoken that her I-Pod was plugged in, and she couldn't hear him. He reached out and snagged one, repeating the question even as he wedged the bud into his ear, enjoying the sounds of  _Pink Floyd_  questioning the Establishment.

' **. . .** **don't need no thought control** **  
****No dark sarcasm in the classroom** **  
****Teachers leave them kids alone** **  
****Hey! Teachers! Leave them kids alone! . . .'**

    She checked her watch, eyeing the time – 3:46pm. "Did you get lost, Gilbert?" she fired back sassily, arching her brow sardonically. "Wouldn't have thought it was possible, in a place as small as this," gesturing at the school-grounds around them.

    He shrugged casually. "Had to have a little chat to someone about their responsibilities," catching the look she shot him, he elaborated. "I told Tyler Lockwood he was a tool and a dick for not bothering to check on Vicki."

    "Is he still breathing after your 'little chat'?"

    "I might have warned him that death was a distinct possibility, if he kept jacking her around the way he has been," he shook his head as she eyed him beadily. "You didn't see him – I did – he was strutting around at the football field, chatting up some of the wannabe cheerleaders who hang around there hoping to score with one of the jocks!" he muttered, furious all over again at the thought of it – Lockwood sitting pretty, making time with other girls, while Vicki was lying unconscious in the hospital after nearly dying . . . it wasn't like he was rooting for Tyler to man up and get over himself, but Vicki deserved better than to have that idiot, that she so obviously wanted, treating her like something that Tyler would scrape off of his boots before walking inside his home!

    Ari rolled her eyes. "Oh . . . shock me with the truth!" she muttered, waving him to hop in the car as she retrieved the bud from him before jumping over the door and settling behind the wheel. Once he was in, she flicked the stereo on and plugged the I-Pod into the dock to cue up the song –  _Anastacia_  this time,  _Sick & Tired_. Raising her voice to be heard over the husky vocals, she asked him, "Home?"

    "Yeah," he muttered reluctantly. "Wanna take a shower after talking to that sweaty animal, anyway."

    Ari guffawed merrily as she pulled out cautiously, looking back over her shoulder to see that she was clear to go, and heading out to the main road. "Might wanna shave those pretty cheeks of yours, too," she cackled teasingly, as she pinched them while he flinched and swiped at her fingers. "Slap on a bit of aftershave – who knows?" she waggled her brows suggestively. "Impress her enough, and you might get lucky, Spike!"

    He looked at his lap, flushing uncomfortably. "It's that obvious, huh?"

    She bumped his shoulder consolingly. "Your almighty crush on the Wild Thing . . . yeah, just a little."

    He stared at her sidelong for a moment, waiting for the judgement . . . nothing. "It doesn't matter to you?" she glanced at him curiously. "Me – Vicki – the age – any of that?" he clarified, flourishing his hand expressively. She chuckled softly, shaking her head.

    "Didja tie her down and rape her, Spike?" she queried facetiously, eyebrows quirking, as he gaped in shock.

    "Ugh, no!" he exclaimed indignantly, face wrinkled in disdain. "My name is Jeremy Gilbert, not  _Tyler Lockwood_!"

    She cringed slightly at that. "Yeah, well – the less said about that, the better!" she snarled darkly through the windshield, unhappy at the reminder of Maarit having to physically rip that boy to shreds, almost, to get him off of Vicki's struggling form. "Changing the topic without any subtlety whatsoever – did  _she_  tie  _you_  down and rape you?" she turned the question around as he snorted with laughter.

    "No –  _bondage_  was not a part of our, uh, relationship, such as it was," he gestured uncomfortably, trying to think of a word to describe the . . . encounters . . . that he'd had with Vicki previously.

    "Meh!" she shrugged dismissively. "I don't really see a problem, then. Both parties claim it was consensual, no animals were harmed in the making of such scenes-"

    "-UGH, ARI!" he squawked indignantly, eyes screwed shut in disgust at the images now emblazoned on his mind. "Blaaarrgh!" he gagged in revulsion. "Hey, to do that completely obvious subject shift once more, I gotta question," she glanced at him sidelong, still grinning at his discomfiture. "What the hell did you do to Tiki Thompson to have her come racing into the Pit like her ass was on fire, and hide beneath those mattresses stacked against the storage shed?"

    "First of all – who is Tiki Thompson?" she looked at him in confusion. "And secondly –  _eww_  – I have  _seen_  those mattresses, and I don't even wanna contemplate the kinds of actions that those . . .  _rat's nests_  . . . have been a part of!" she finished, shuddering in disgust at the thought.

    Jeremy snorted in agreement, unlike Ari, he HAD actually seen some things involving those mattresses – and  _oh_ , he wished that he could  _unsee_  them, somehow! "That's all anyone could get out of her, while she was huddling in the corner and refusing to come out, she was mumbling your name and whimpering about being chased to Charlottesville, or something."

    Ari huffed out a sardonic laugh, the pieces finally falling into place. "Seriously, her name is  _Tiki Thompson_? Oh, that's just too precious! And it was Carolina, not Charlottesville, by the way."

    He waited for a moment, and then prodded at her impatiently when she remained silent. "Spill it, Parrish, what happened?"

    "Not much . . . she thought she had something to say to my face about showing off my bra last night at the party . . ." she paused as Jeremy hissed sharply at that. "Yeah, so – I tried to maim her with a textbook, Bonnie and Stefan held me back from scalping her with my bare hands . . . and she vanished into thin air for the rest of the day," she wiggled her shoulders in triumph, grinning toothily. "Presto – problem solved!" Jeremy just slouched in his seat, his mind whirling – what a bitch!

    Pulling into the driveway at 2104, he jumped out and waved her off as she rolled out again. "5:00, right?"

    "5:00 it is!" she called back as she joined up with the main traffic on the road, waving as she drove away, heading home for the next little while.

* * *

****Texts-start****

**(3:55pm)** **SS** **to** **AP** **: W.T. taken care of, thinks it's anim. Nearly trapped by M.D. as I left; jumped out of 1** **st** **Fr window.**

 **(3:55pm)** **AP** **to** **SS** **: WTF?! Did you sprain something, like your foot, or your BRAIN? Hello – Speedy Gonzales ring any bells? In & Out, that's what you told me – no witnesses!**

 **(3:56pm)** **SS** **to** **AP** **: In's fine, short sprint to get inside where unseen other than W.T., Out is where** _**witnesses** _ **could be walking around, did you WANT people talking about Ghosts or Gremlins, or something, if I got caught?**

 **(3:57pm)** **AP** **to** **SS** **: We are gonna TALK about this, 1-on-1, not on mobile – damn it –** _**cell** _ **. . . meet hosp. u/c lot 5:45 2nite.**

 **(3:58pm)** **SS** **to** **AP** **: Y not my place – or urs?**

 **(3:58pm)** **AP** **to** **SS** **:** _**Completely** _ **random question . . . Where is ur bro rite now?**

 **(3:59pm)** **SS** **to** **AP** **: I c ur point.**

 **(3:59pm)** **AP** **to** **SS** **: Yeah,** **not going 2 happen.**

 **(3:59pm)** **SS** **to** **AP** **: 5:45, CP?**

 **(3:59pm)** **AP** **to** **SS** **: C u there,** _**Stefanie** _ **:P**

 **(4:00pm)** **SS** **to** **AP** **: WILL U STOP ALREADY!**

 **(4:00pm)** **AP** **to** **SS** **: ;D**

****Texts-end****

* * *

    Ari studied everything floating around her, levitated by magic, and then looked at her bag, trying to determine how everything was going to fit. Shrugging, she snapped her fingers and watched the items neatly tucking themselves inside and then, once the task was finished and the bag went to close, clicked her fingers to stop it. There was one thing still missing – clapping her hands briskly, she grinned when the most important piece was in place and bent down to zip the bag herself, carefully leaving a couple of inches open.

    Quickly looking around the kitchen, she nodded in satisfaction; the dining table was set up, the stew was ready – she could warm that back up in minutes once she returned – the pies for dessert were cooling on the rack under netting screens . . . everything was ready.

    Her phone beeped at her, telling her that there was a new text. Checking it, her brows rapidly rose into her hairline:  _Pls rescue me NOW. Out front waiting, Jenna on warpath!_ "The hell . . . ?" she stared at the phone as if it was about to give her all the answers to her questions. Spike, what the bloody hell did you do, she wondered darkly, even as she tapped out a quick response and strode briskly to the front door with the bag over her shoulder:  _OTW, T-minus 30 seconds . . . 29 . . . 28 . . ._

    The rapid reply telling her to step it up, just a little, had her rolling her eyes as the car rolled out of the driveway, heading towards 2104 as she saw Jeremy briskly making his way down the sidewalk. She barely had the chance to slow down before he angled himself and did a weird sort of  _hop-step-jump_ , launching himself into the car as she sucked in a sharp breath at his recklessness, and then punched his shoulder crossly once he'd settled safely into the passenger seat. "Ouch! Dammit, why ya gotta hit me all the time?" rubbing at the sore spot on his arm as he glared. Damn, that was going to leave a bruise!

    Her glower was every bit as black as his as she sped up again, not bothering to respond to such an asinine question. They stewed in mutual outraged silence for a while, before Jeremy blew out a long breath and turned to face her, clearing his throat gruffly. "I'm sorry . . . I know I freaked you out by taking that flying leap, it was totally stupid.

    "Jenna pulled me up for a lecture, thinly disguised as a 'back in my wild, irresponsible teen years' story, about . . ." he gestured uncomfortably as she gave him a sidelong look. ". . . Getting stoned all the time and I just didn't wanna hear it, so," he twisted back in his seat to stare glumly out the windshield. She studied him from the corner of her eye for a moment, taking in his dejected posture, before she blew out an aggravated breath and damned herself for being a sap.

    "Grab that bag, will ya?" indicating the backseat where it was laid. "And be gentle with it, there's food . . . and other stuff . . . in there," flicking him a glance as he twisted around to snag it, grunting a little as he hefted it.

"Does the 'other stuff' include bricks?" he asked, wondering at the weight of the thing, as he pulled it over onto his lap. Ari only smirked as she took one hand off the wheel and unzipped it enough to fish around, wincing slightly as she apparently found an obstacle.

    "Bloody hell, that's sharp," she muttered, shifting her hand as she dug a little deeper, her face lighting up as she located what she was looking for. "There you go!" tugging until a small container popped free and handing it to him. "Not really sure that you deserve it but, what the hell, it seems like you need it to cheer you up," swiftly ruffling his hair before he could stop her and withdrawing her hand to concentrate on driving again.

    "Dammit, Parrish, why is it always the hair?" he grumbled, patting it back into place before examining the container that he held. "Is this . . . ?" his eyes widened in sudden glee, giving her a huge grin.

    "All yours, Spike – lemon meringue pie, hope you like it," she grinned back as he whooped in excitement.

    "It's only my total favourite," he gushed, clutching the Tupperware pack like a newborn baby. "Thanks, Ari!"

    "Don't scarf it all at once, Spike," she looked at him sceptically as he nodded solemnly, the gleam in his eyes belying his ready agreement. She shook her head in resignation. "Just remember, I warned you. You'll be sick."

    "So worth it!"

    They were still laughing as she turned into the hospital's parking lot, swiftly pulling into a vacant space that was close to the main doors. Inside, they made their way to the elevators to hitch a ride up to the Trauma Ward.

    Just as the doors were closing on their cab, she turned to him with a grimace curling her lips and her hands fidgeting, curling and uncurling into small fists at her sides. "Spike, I gotta confession." He looked at her quizzically. "I really,  _really_ , hate hospitals . . ."

* * *

    Matt was idly contemplating the possibility of flinging that stupid Jello cup back at his sister as payback for waking him up . . . and freaking him out before . . . and . . . well, for driving him crazy in general, really, just as Jeremy walked in the door and grinned in sheer relief as he saw that Vicki was wide awake. "Hey!" he greeted happily, not waiting for a reply before looking back over his shoulder and calling out, "Yeah, she lives!" Both Donovans were a tad dumbstruck, not knowing quite what to make of that, until they heard the quick tapping of someone heading towards the room.

    "Oh, praise the Lord!" the cheerful, familiar accent rang out in the corridor as Matt chuckled while Vicki's face split wide in a cheerful grin as Ari continued, "Ladies and gentlemen, let us gather our courage and go where the Wild Thing lives . . ." parodying the popular children's book as her bright golden head popped into view around the doorway. Her smile was nearly blinding when she spotted Vicki, all but bouncing on her bed in excitement at seeing her friend. "Awww, there you are!" she came fully into the room, bag on her shoulder, as she wandered over to stand beside the bed. "You look so much better than the last time I saw you – not that  _that_  would be difficult . . ." everyone except Vicki grimaced as they thought about the previous evening when she had looked, almost literally, like death.

    Vicki shook her head in aggravation. "Honestly, guys," peering between all of them. "I feel fine, I swear," she gazed at Ari, a grin pulling at her lips as she raised her arms beseechingly. "I wouldn't say no to a hug . . ." Ari grinned as she gently placed the bag down on Matt's lap before embracing her friend, shuddering in relief.

    "Oh, Wild Thing, I – WE – are so glad that you're okay. I don't know about anyone else, but I didn't sleep easy last night," they withdrew from the embrace, Ari holding onto one of Vicki's hands as she squeezed gently.

    "What the . . . ?" Matt's sudden exclamation, as the bag he was holding rippled weirdly, had them all staring at the strange phenomenon. Ari grinned as they heard it –  _Mmraoow?_  Matt's eyes popped wide in disbelief, looking at Ari as he goggled. "Did you . . . ?"

    "I think someone heard your voice, Wild Thing," she crooned, grinning madly. She waved Matt to the door, telling him to keep a lookout, while he handed over the bag as the demanding mews from within got louder and the fabric wriggled again. Jeremy sagged against the wall as he laughed helplessly when the caged creature began to nag stridently about getting out of the confined quarters right now – or else! "Hang on, Your Highness," Ari giggled as she yanked at the zip. "Wriggling around only makes it worse – you're making the tab catch on the cloth!" Finally the links parted, with Maarit poking her head out to complain bitterly about the indignity.

    Growling in displeasure, she freed herself, quickly padding over to Vicki to purr raptly, nuzzling and chuffing at her excitedly. "Aw, hello sweetie," Vicki cooed ecstatically, cuddling her dotingly as the kitten curled into her, blissfully happy to see that her girl's new friend was alright.

    "You know that she's not supposed to . . ." Matt felt obliged to point out that there really would be hell to pay if they got caught, even as he continued to keep an eye out for hospital staff.

    "Sssssshhhhh!"

    "Killjoy!"

    "Will you shut up?"

    They all hissed at him warningly, Ari lifting her finger to her mouth as she called for him to hush in case anyone overheard them. He lifted his hands defensively as he grinned ruefully. "Okay, already! Don't shoot, I'm just saying . . ."

    "We know, Matt," Ari laughed quietly, acknowledging that he had a point – Maarit really wasn't supposed to be here. "But she would  _never_  forgive me if she didn't get a chance to see Wild Thing for herself, I swear she's been in a right royal funk all day," she claimed, rolling her eyes in aggravation at the memory of Maarit's brooding.

    "So, when you were digging around in the bag while we were in the car . . ." Jeremy suddenly realised. Ari nodded, lifting her hand to show off the thin pink line on the back.

    "I managed to accidentally trap her tail between my hand and one of the containers in there – obviously she wasn't too happy about that," she added as they all chuckled. Vicki buried her face in Maarit's soft fur, closing her eyes, and then she flinched slightly as blurred, fragmented images began to play through her mind – what the hell?

    Lifting her head, she petted absently as Maarit purred, her mind whirling. "I . . . what?" she whispered, so faintly that even Ari, sitting right beside her, could barely hear. Even as she frowned in concern, she lifted her finger to hush Matt as he stiffened in worry at his sister's sudden distress. Vicki trembled, holding onto Maarit like a protective talisman, as she tried to make sense of the sudden rush of . . . memories . . . nightmares? It didn't make any sense – one moment she remembered almost nothing, and the next – Maarit rumbled to her soothingly, large eyes fixed on the pale, abstracted features as Vicki made a soft, panicky sound in the back of her throat, much as a trapped animal might.

    Matt left the door, his hand reaching out – whether to touch Vicki or to snatch Maarit away from her, as the kitten seemed to have triggered her anxiety, they would never know – as Vicki jerked away, breathing hard, and clutched at Maarit desperately. Looking down at the unperturbed feline, her eyes filled with grateful tears. "My little hero," she whispered, bending to kiss Maarit's nose. Lifting her head to stare at Matt, she shook her head in confusion. "I don't know why I didn't remember before, but – she tried to warn me, Matty, tried to save me – I just didn't understand before it was too late!"

    Matt knelt beside the bed, his bright blue eyes searching her as she struggled to frame the words. "I – she – she went so stiff . . . all of a sudden, her fur puffed out – she looked twice as big, she hissed and snarled, she went wild – I turned – turned where she was looking – too late. I was down . . . felt like I'd been hit by a truck . . . staring up at the trees – I think I screamed – I don't know – then Maarit was gone," a tear spilled over as she stared at him desperately. "I was so scared Matty, I thought maybe, maybe she was hurt by – IT – and – and then, I don't remember anymore . . ." Matt's eyes were glossy as he breathed deeply, fighting back his own tears, as he came up off the floor, embracing his sister while she sobbed softly.

    Ari left the siblings to themselves, hopping down and going over to Jeremy as he slid down the wall, sitting on the ground as he closed his eyes and exhaled shakily.

    After a couple of minutes, the pair on the bed disentangled, Matt rubbing at his eyes tiredly as Vicki snuggled up with Maarit, taking comfort in her undemanding company. "God, I feel like day-old crap," Matt muttered. "I want coffee – does anyone want something while I go?" looking around to see if there were any takers.

    Vicki shook her head reluctantly. "If I have coffee right now, I might actually chuck!" she murmured, as Jeremy replied in the negative, but Maarit's head shot up in sudden interest, her ears pricking at the word 'coffee'.

    "Maar', no!" Ari complained, huffing when her familiar sagged dismally at her refusal. "You won't sleep," she pleaded with the stubborn kitten to understand, pouting when the peevish feline turned her nose up haughtily and refused to concede to her logic. "Bloody hell . . . it's not your special brand, anyway, you probably won't even like it!" she muttered sulkily even as she hopped off the bed and went to the door to follow Matt out. Jeremy had pulled his hoodie up to hide his face as he cackled gleefully at the byplay, while Vicki cuddled the smug kitten and buried her giggles into her fur.

    "Laugh it up, jerks," Ari murmured with her lips quirking in reluctant amusement as they only smirked back at her. "I'm telling you – it's HELL being owned by a cat," she sighed dramatically. "They rule the household, and you end up as an unpaid housekeeper in your own home."

    Turning back around, she grumbled direly under her breath as she stomped after Matt down the corridor, eyeing his back darkly as she saw his broad shoulders shaking in poorly concealed hilarity. He heaved a great sigh after a moment, firmly straightening his back as he turned to face her, walking backwards as he spread his hands and called the score as he saw it, "Maarit – 1, Parrish – 0." Walking into the visitors' lounge, they messed around at the urn, fiddling with sachets and packets as they chatted lightly. Matt grimaced lightly as he thought of something. "Uh – maybe we should hurry back," he nodded his head to the door. "Dunno if I'm thrilled about leaving that pair alone for long – who knows what they'd get up to?"

    Ari snorted softly, rolling her eyes as she blew on the cup that had the closest approximation as she could get to Maarit's favoured beverage in this place – not very close at all! "You're forgetting something, Matt – or should I say . . . someone?" he cocked his head in confusion. "Her Highness, Queen Maarit," she reminded him as he grinned widely. "And believe me!" rolling her eyes heavenwards. "Her Imperial Majesty does NOT approve of THAT kind of behaviour in Her exalted presence!" Matt guffawed as he held the door for her, ushering her out of the room and trailing behind her, still snorting at the image of the haughty feline acting as a chaperone for the two left in the room.

    "But, just in case," he wheedled, not wanting to see THAT if they came back to the room . . .

    She turned to walk backwards, depending on him to warn her if she was about to run into anything along the way. "I suppose you could hunt down that tap and the bucket," referencing her earlier crack in history about Stefan and Elena's display of eye-sex. "Seeing as I don't have my handy little sling," waggling her eyebrows as Matt cracked up at the memory.

    "Funniest thing I'd seen all day!" he muttered, grinning as he recalled Salvatore's aggravated glare at the thoroughly unrepentant Ari. He debated for a moment as to whether or not he should tell her about the guy's inexplicable presence at the hospital earlier, lurking around Vicki's room, but decided against it, understanding that Ari considered Salvatore as her friend, and not wanting to get into an argument with the girl who may well have saved Vicki's life.

    "Matt?"

    His eyes refocussed on her puzzled face – apparently he'd been a little out of it as he pondered. He grinned at her sheepishly. "Just contemplating getting a lit match ready," she tilted her head, eyeing him quizzically. "To burn my eyes out if I see somethin' I never, ever, wanted to see," he snorted as she shuddered in distaste.

    "I see your point – but I still think you're obsessed," tossing the remark over her shoulder as she spun back around to march off to the room, still blowing on the cup she held in her left hand. Coming up to the door, she halted suddenly, turning on her heel as she suddenly had an expression on her face that put him in mind of the devil . . . what was she up to now? She smirked at him as she whispered, "Play along!" and waved him back. Willing to follow her lead – Arianna Parrish just had a way about her, everything seemed lighter, brighter somehow – he propped his shoulder against the wall and sipped at his coffee, smirking into the cup as she poked her head around the door suddenly, growling deeply, "And what are YOU up to in here?" he barely avoided exhaling coffee from his nose as he choked and spluttered in hilarity at the barely stifled squeals and yells of shock from the room.

    "ARI!"

    "PARRISH!"

    She cackled loudly, her head craning as she eyed Matt with a slightly arrested expression. He tilted his head, perplexed by her reaction, until he spotted the roguish glint in her eyes – more mischief, he realised. She put her hand up, darting what looked like a slightly panicked glance into the room, before staring back at him. "Matt – what are you doing with that hose? Matt, put it down! NO, I swear, Matt, they're fully clothed and everything – MATT!" ducking out of the way as if she was watching Matt charging up to the room with a fire-hose in hand, ready to douse any lingering aspirations of lust with a cannon-burst of icy water, she shrieked with apparent fear as Matt took his cue, setting his coffee down and pounding towards the door while Jeremy and Vicki both shrieked – rather girlishly, really – in panic.

    Matt was barely inside the door when he collided with Jeremy, both going down in a heap, while he and Ari howled with laughter as he ended up on the bottom of the pile. "DUDE!" Jeremy yowled in high dudgeon, thoroughly unamused by the trick. "Not cool!" the sentiment echoed by the huddled heap lying under the sheets on the bed before Vicki's head poked back out, eyes blazing indignantly. Ari pouted sadly, her face drooping.

    "Not even a little?" she whimpered pathetically.

    "NO!" the pair yelled in harmony, Jeremy glaring as he struggled to hoist himself up from the floor, receiving no help from Matt who was still whooping hysterically.

    She turned up her nose peevishly. "Well then!" crossing her arms haughtily across her chest, careful to tuck the cups she held safely underneath, as she tossed her head and sniffed, every inch the wounded Diva. "I see where I'm not wanted!" strutting out the door again and turning down the corridor. Jeremy and Vicki exchanged alarmed glances, suddenly shamefaced at their pettishness – it  _had_  been quite funny, even if they were unhappy about being on the receiving end of this particular prank.

    Jeremy finally managed to straighten up, scrambling for the door, as he called out to her, "Ari, come on, wait! We didn't mean it," stopping dead in the hallway as he spotted her standing over a discarded cup sitting on the floor as she frowned down at the two that she was already holding.

    "Damn it!" she muttered, peering up at him with a rueful smirk tugging at her mouth. "I obviously didn't think this little plot the whole way through."

    Jeremy snorted in exasperation at having been fooled again – honestly, you'd think he'd be used to her by now! "You stormed out of there to pick up a cup?" he sniggered lightly, striding over to bend down and pick it up, bobbling it slightly as he finally took note of the fact that it was still mostly full.

    "Matt's coffee," she explained, grinning as Matt, having finally mustered the ability to stand once more after his laughing fit, staggered out the door in search of his liquid ambrosia.

    "AH!" he exclaimed excitedly, hands outstretched eagerly as Jeremy handed it over with a smirk, taking a large gulp as his eyes closed in relief. "Nectar of the Gods!" sharing a highly entertained glance, Ari and Jeremy decided not to comment, sidling around him as they went back inside the room. Ari was met with a demanding familiar, as Maarit wound her way between her legs, mewing in excitement at the thought of one of her favourite treats.

    Ari shook her head with a light grimace. "Here you go, my love, have at it," digging through the bag to fetch Maarit's bowl and placing it on the floor, pouring the now-warm fluid from the cup into it so Maarit could drink. She sniffed at it sceptically, curling her lip a bit at the smell. Ari smirked. "I tried to tell you, love, all coffees are not created equal," holding her finger up in a lecturing manner as Maarit groaned in disappointment. Curling up around the bowl, she stared into the murky depths dolefully before sighing heavily and lapping at the inferior substance doubtfully.

    Vicki slumped back against the pillows as she stifled her giggles, not wishing to offend her little companion as Jeremy took the chair, head down as he smirked. Matt wandered back in, brows arched as he took in the scene. "And here I was, thinking that this was just one more of your practical jokes," he laughed, watching Maarit slurping away unenthusiastically. "Well, now I've seen everything – a British kitty-cat drinking coffee!" he settled back on the bed as Maarit lifted her head to pierce him with a particularly foul glare, as if to say that she didn't consider what she was currently drinking to be worthy of the accolade of  _coffee_!

    He held up his hands in submission. "Sorry, Your Highness – but Ari DID warn you," he reminded her, chuckling softly at her distinct eye-roll. "THIS, on the other hand," pointing to Ari's mug of tea, "Is more of what I would've expected."

    Ari shrugged casually as she gracefully folded herself onto the arm of the chair while Jeremy shifted to give her room, saluting Matt with the Styrofoam elegantly. "Yeah, I'm a walking cliché, me," sipping delicately – bloody hell, HER drink was still  _near-boiling_  – as they sniggered.

    The next little while was spent chatting idly, as they all laughed and stayed well away from any heavy subject matter by mutual, unspoken agreement for the remainder of the visit – Vicki's mini-breakdown earlier had put them all on edge – allowing the laughter from Ari and Matt's previous shenanigans to lighten the atmosphere and keep them smiling, while Maarit went from one person to the next, revelling in their attentions as she demanded affection and spoiling.

    One of Matt's rather raunchy retorts to Ari's teasing, along with everyone's boisterous laughter in reaction, finally had one of the Ward Nurses making an appearance to chide them about remaining quiet so as not to disturb the other occupants of the Ward, who needed their rest, and Ari put up her hand to take the blame, apologising solemnly for any disturbance. Having extraordinarily keen ears, as was characteristic for her species, Maarit had rapidly jumped back inside the bag and out of sight with a warning  _riaoww!_  at the sound of approaching footsteps, giving Ari time to nudge the incriminating bowl under the chair and out of sight before the Nurse had walked in.

    At that particular moment, her watch signalled, as they all startled slightly at the chime. Checking the time, she groaned in dismay. "I gotta go!" wincing as Vicki protested vehemently. "I know, but seriously, I have SO much I gotta do before tonight," hastening to explain as both Donovans looked at her quizzically, while the Nurse slipped back out of the room with his warning delivered. "I've gotta meet up with Stefan – massive study project in our A.P. Languages class that we're partners in," she added the last at Matt's grimace. "If I actually showed you the project guidelines for the  _minimum_  expectations for a passing grade –  _you'd faint_!

    "We've got to get ourselves organised  _tout de suite_  – the tooter the sweeter – or we're kaput, plus I have dinner tonight with Miss Sheila Bennett at my house, so I must get home straight after Stefan and I get everything hammered out to see that all of that is set up. WHOO, and here I thought that Mystic Falls was a quiet little town!" she concluded, mopping her brow free of mock-sweat as they all hooted with glee at her frustration over the busy schedule. "And that reminds me . . ." digging through the bag and coming up with two more small containers that she peered at closely to be sure of their contents before handing them off to each of the siblings.

    "What the . . ." Matt muttered, eyeing his container with a slowly widening grin, pointing at it as he stared at Ari in disbelief. "Is this . . . how did you know?" he babbled, even as he was lifting the lid away to inhale eagerly, drawing in the delicious aroma blissfully. Vicki was stunned, staring at the contents of her parcel as though it was the Crown Jewels – or something that she considered even more priceless –

    "Passionfruit and mango mini-cheesecakes?" she blurted, holding one up in delight. "How on earth . . . ?"

    "I have my sources," Ari beamed, glad that they were thrilled with their gifts.

    Matt huffed, eyeing her knowingly as he held up his prize to show the others. "Double choc-chunk cookies with caramel fudge? Confess, Parrish, was it Caroline . . . or Bonnie?"

    She smirked triumphantly. "Why depend on  _one_  . . . when you can ask  _both_  of them?"

   They shook their heads in amazement. "How did you even get the time?" Vicki breathed, bewildered and ecstatic.

    Ari shrugged dismissively. "I might have been up at about 5am this morning . . ." and rolled her eyes as they immediately griped in concert.

    "Ari!"

    "What the hell, Parrish?"

    "Sheesh, Ari, you didn't say that-"

    "-I  _did_  say that I didn't exactly rest well last night . . ." holding up her hand to ward off their objections as they subsided reluctantly to hear her out. "I woke up, and I knew I wasn't gonna be able to go back to sleep, so I got up and wandered into the kitchen for a drink. I wanted to occupy my mind, and my hands, and baking always was something of a stress-reliever for me, so I just started making up all kinds of batter and dough and tonnes of other stuff," she explained, cringing at the thought of the excess  _stuff_  left over in her pantry, cupboards, and the refrigerator after her epic preparation session that morning. "Seriously, if you could see my fridge – it's packed! I won't need to make desserts for the next  _month_.

    "And all I had to do, when I saw Caroline and Bonnie, was ask the right questions to figure out everyone's favourites. I've got an automatic oven at home that could practically make a ten-course dinner all on its own, so I had baked, empty pastry shells that only needed filling, risen dough ready to be mixed and baked off, roasted vegies – it's crazy, the things I can do with it – I love it!" she laughed as they stared at her, gobsmacked.

    Jeremy shook his head as if to clear it, and then smirked. "Well, it's not like we're gonna complain about the results!" he laughed, digging under his hoodie to fish out his pack and wave it around cheerfully as Vicki and Matt laughed in agreement.

    Matt hopped off the bed to bear-hug her gratefully, squeezing tight for a moment, as she laughed and hugged him back. "Thanks, Ari – for everything – not just for . . ." he flourished his hand at Vicki in demonstration as his throat thickened at the thought of how close he'd come to losing her.

    Ari shook her head gently in negation of his gratitude, smiling at Vicki tenderly. "I did everything that I could last night, Matt, believe me – thing is, none of it would have made a blind bit of difference if not for the fact that . . ." wandering over to hug Vicki in relief, ". . . That your sister is a fighter, a true, kick-arse survivor, so just remember that, she wanted to live – and against some really bad odds, she fought for it – and she won the battle."

    Vicki hugged her back fiercely in thanks for the words, even as Ari's watch chimed again, more insistently this time. She growled a bit in annoyance, releasing Vicki to jab at the button resentfully to shut it up. "I  _really_ gotta get outta here, so . . ." she swiped the bag from the floor, calling out to her familiar, "Come on, my love, we gotta scoot, so say goodnight for now."

    Maarit popped her head out eagerly as she meowed in anticipation while Ari swung the bag gently over in Vicki's direction, letting her give Maarit a fond Eskimo kiss in farewell as Matt gave her an affectionate scratch between the ears. He couldn't resist a parting comment, even as Jeremy hopped up to scoop her out of the bag and hug her goodbye. "Talking about kicking ass – is it true that Tiki Thompson, of all people, took refuge from your righteous wrath in  _the Pit_ , today?" he half-laughed, as Vicki perked up in interest, while Jeremy cracked up and Ari moaned in disgust at the reminder.

    "From everything  _I_ heard . . . she was  _still_  there once everyone left for the day!" Jeremy snorted with glee. "And that's not the worst part – she dived under those dirty old mattresses over by the shed down there . . ." pausing for effect as both of the siblings faces screwed up in revulsion at the thought.

    "Whaaa' . . . ?" Vicki wheezed, her expression entirely revolted – like Jeremy – she had  _seen_  things!

    "Ugh! Please, if we really have to have this little gossip-fest, can we save it for – I don't know – a kind of . . . welcome back, glad you're out of the hospital . . . deal for Miss Wild Thing, tomorrow maybe?" Ari whined hopefully, giving them the puppy-dog eyes. "'Cause I really,  _really_ , gotta go – you're gonna stick around a bit longer, Spike?" Ari asked, just for confirmation, as Maarit purred and nuzzled at his chin warmly.

    He nodded, and Matt spoke up in offer, "Now that Vick's outta danger, they'll probably kick me out after dinner, anyway, so I can give you a ride, Jer." Agreed on the particulars, Ari was satisfied that all was set up for her to go – zipping the bag up with a few inches of breathing space for the re-installed Maarit, she waved farewell as she headed off with their goodbyes following her out the door.

    Listening to her footfalls getting fainter, Matt waited until he couldn't hear them any longer before he snuck over to the door and poked his head around to peer up and down the hallways. Satisfied, he pulled back and swung the door nearly closed as he headed back to his previous spot on the bed. The three of them shared a conspiratorial grin as they huddled around his phone while he pushed the button to dial a particular person –  _no way_  were they waiting until tomorrow to get the full download on what happened today – and it just so happened that Matt had this number, the number of one of the people who, from all accounts, had the firsthand report of the showdown between Miss Arianna Parrish and the outmatched, outgunned, and woefully out _classed_  –  _in every conceivable way_  – Tiki Thompson!

    Listening impatiently as the connection was picked up on the network; they waited for their mutual acquaintance to pick up on their end – "Hello? Matt?" – grinning toothily at the questioning voice, Jeremy and Vicki waved for Matt to take it from there, for now, it  _was_  his phone, after all.

    "Hey, Bon, just gotta couple of questions about an issue that I – that WE – would just love for you to clear up for us . . ."

* * *

    Exiting the front doors, Ari checked her watch and decided to hustle a little – she wasn't late, not yet, but she would be if she didn't move now. Walking into the ground level of the undercover car-park, she looked around, anticipating catching sight of the familiar coppery-brown hair – nothing. Pursing her lips in surprise, she took a second, more thorough, scan of the lot – still alone, as far as she could tell. This wasn't like Stefan, if she was right on time, he should have been here by now . . . unless . . . her ears pricked up as she heard a slight scraping sound above, her head snapped up to the concrete ceiling above that served as the foundation for the upper level.

    "Stefan?" she called, smiling slightly as she heard the hushed, skittering sound again, like pebbles being rolled against stone. "It better be you, Stefan, I'm not into playing the part of some melodramatic, horror-movie heroine, right now," the only reply was the soft echo of her voice rolling back off of the concrete surfaces around her so, rolling her eyes, she made her way to the flight of steps to ascend to the first level, winding her way around to where she'd heard the sound – as she'd suspected, she found a scattered bunch of stones lying around on the concrete – the slight chill of awareness prickling along her spine told her that a vampire was definitely hanging around the area . . . hopefully, it was the vampire she wanted to see.

    If not . . . a quick search of the bag yielded a syringe with a peculiar, pale yellow liquid gleaming inside, quickly she uncapped it – hopefully, she wouldn't have to use it – this was her Emergency stash, a just-in-case measure . . .  _it was all she had_! Her eyes narrowed warily, scanning her surroundings in caution, her neck tingling with the agitation of sensing an apex killer nearby – but where? How close? There was a sound from below, a soft, airy  _whoosh_ , that had her racing swiftly, near-soundlessly, over to the barrier to peer over, huffing in frustration when she saw nothing. Placing the bag gently on the ground, she could hear Maarit snuffling tensely – she wasn't alarmed, not yet – just alerted to, and wary of, the hunter that her magically enhanced senses could detect just as well as Ari's could.

    Suddenly Ari felt it; the predatory stare directed at her – right behind . . . NO!

* * *

    If anyone had been within earshot of the car-park they might have wondered at, or been frightened by, the unearthly scream that suddenly reverberated off the walls from the upper level – a howl of acute panic and torment – followed by the rumbling, animalistic growl of a stalking predator that has sighted its quarry and was ready to pounce . . . but alas, nobody was there to witness . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: *HIDES BEHIND THE WALL, PEEKING OVER WARILY* Cliff-hanger, anyone? Please, tell me whether or not it works for you . . . can't fix it if I don't know what's broke. Hopefully everyone's a little less ambivalent about this chapter than they were with the last one - oh well, can't win 'em all!
> 
> Please excuse my ignorance as, here in Australia, cheerleading really isn't a thing so I don't know too much about their technical terms for stunts and tumbles, or which kinds of materials are used for the pom-poms.
> 
> Who were our unidentified guests in Ari's dreams? I don't think these ones are too difficult to work out, but I hope you have fun with my sad attempts at mystery-writing, anyway ;) also, if anybody's confused about the texting part, feel free to ask - the texting, messaging and I.M'ing, etc, will play some important parts in this fic a bit later on, so if you're confused now, you might end up a bit frustrated later . . .
> 
> . . . Also, were the pranks too weird? I racked my brains for ages, trying to come up with anything, those were about as good as it got, so . . . ?
> 
> UP NEXT: What the heck just happened? The meeting that I think quite a few people have been waiting for - Ari vs. Damon - who will emerge victorious? Wait and see :)
> 
>  
> 
> Definitions
> 
> Systir (Old Norse): sister.
> 
> Minn Fyrstr (Old Norse): My first. There are some clues, scattered throughout the fic, especially in ch 5 - Memories & Maladies - about who Arielle (is it Arielle?) is referring to . . . V.D. fans may already have a good idea of who I'm talking about :)
> 
> Was machst du denn hier? Holen Sie sich vor- (German): What are you doing in here? Get out before I-
> 
> Parlez-vous Français? (French): Do you speak French?
> 
> Qu'est-ce que vous voulez? (French): What do you want?
> 
> Sjálfvili (Old Norse): Free Will.
> 
> Neinn (Old Norse): No, never.
> 
>  
> 
> Song Lyrics in Chapter
> 
> Pink Floyd - Another Brick In The Wall Pt 2


	12. Chapter 11: By The Light Of The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dangerous encounter . . . will Arielle make it home in time for tea? Read on if you dare ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Please see first chapter.
> 
> A/N: Sorry, everyone. Two days overdue - I underestimated how difficult is was gonna be to get inside of Damon's mind, even if just for a couple of paragraphs. Wow, his mind - especially at the start of Vampire Diaries - is a bag full of angry wildcats . . . mad and crazy in all directions! But, finally it's done, so here you are, I hope you'll enjoy what I have.
> 
> In other news, because a lot of people have been asking - I've given in - I'm putting out the definitive pairing for Arielle . . . is everyone watching . . . and the winner is . . . Elijah/Arielle/Niklaus . . . who picked it?
> 
> Warnings: Minor Language; Minor Religious Themes

    . . . NO!

_Ooh, Nimue's knickers_! The pain of the strike nearly had her crumpling to the ground as her hand went to grasp the afflicted area in agony, only her pride holding her upright, as the blood rushed to the area and away from her head, leaving her lightheaded and dizzy, as she screeched her shock and pain out into the early evening. She managed to spin around, a wounded animal at bay, staring fixedly at the cruelly amused figure of the savage beast that had injured her so . . .

    "Salvatore!" she hissed menacingly, brandishing the syringe in her hand threateningly to ward the vicious predator away. A ferocious, inhuman growl issued forcefully from her throat as he smirked, eyes gleaming coldly in satisfaction, and leaned forward with a calculating sneer twisting the handsome features as the highly evolved, predatory mind behind the human facade rapidly assessed her vulnerability.

    "How does it feel on the other end of the strike, Miss Ari?" waving the homemade slingshot victoriously as she flinched at the sight of the cause of the stinging, lingering pain in her backside.

    "Damn you, Stefan, you vengeful prick!" she grumbled ruefully, recapping the syringe and slipping it into her pocket to free her hand so that both were now rubbing gingerly at the tender, throbbing portion of her anatomy where the hurled stone had struck with rapid, brutal force. She eyed him blackly. "I used a bloody _rubber_  eraser, you arse-wipe!" she vented indignantly, pouting at the unfairness of it all.

    He snorted in resentment. " _You_  aimed at  _my_  head. At least my target was  _padded_."

    She huffed out in astonishment, wagging her finger scoldingly. "Have you seen your hair, Salvatore? A steel anvil would bounce off of that . . ." muttering direly as her hand returned to its previous task of soothing the much-abused flesh of her rear.

    Keeping a wary eye on him, and refusing to turn her back to him for so much as a split-second, she watched guardedly as he slung the discarded bag over his shoulder lightly and then followed him back down to the ground level and out of the undercover lot as he made his way over to her car, shaking his head in disgust. "Honestly, between you and Damon, it's enough to give a guy a complex about his hair!"

    "Ever considered the source of our complaining?" she nagged, still glaring at his back as he stopped dead, whistling in awe at her car. He turned back, giving her the beady eye for that comment, before ignoring her entirely in favour of drooling over the sleek lines of the roadster.

    He ran his hands caressingly over the sides – he had seen the car before – this was the first time that he'd taken the opportunity to  _see_  the vehicle from close up . . . the Cabriolet version of the Maserati Gran Turismo; it wasn't even officially released into the commercial markets, yet! How . . . "How did you get this, anyway?" he turned in wonder, staring at her admiringly as she snarled at him through clenched teeth, clearly still seething with wounded pride, and a wounded . . . well, yeah.

    "Bought it," the flat, sullen reply raising his eyebrows as he peered at her sulky countenance . . . so that's how she wanted to play, did she? "Maarit, you traitorous feline, what are you waiting for?" she growled. "Get him!" the bag rippled as they both held their breath in anticipation, waiting. The kneazle poked her head out of the small gap inquisitively, mewing at Stefan in greeting as he peered over his shoulder at her with a grin, before pulling herself free of the bag and bouncing up and over his shoulder into the back seat, where she curled up snugly, completely blasé about her mistress' stupefied annoyance. "OOH!"

    He chuckled softly, taunting her with the fact of the first part of his vengeance being completed without any avenues of reprisal left to her. "My family hails from Firenze, Miss Ari, should you be so surprised that I understand the concept of  _vendetta_ ," he smiled mockingly as she bared her teeth in a baleful sneer. The effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that she was still fidgeting at the persistent ache in her posterior.

    "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!" she snorted, her usual, irrepressible sense of humour finally resurfacing with his unapologetic grin at her shrewish reply. Yeah, he got her good – this time! She'd be ready for him on the next round, she assured herself, she'd have to be – she didn't think her bum could stand up to another sneaky assault like that!

    "Come on," he beckoned her over as he opened the driver's side door for her courteously, waving her in, and grinning thinly at her sudden squirm of discomfort as bruised skin descended on the leather upholstery, before crossing to the other side to slide into the passenger's seat. "I half-expected you to take off on me," he commented wryly as she exited onto the road, driving back to the boarding-house.

    She tossed her head haughtily at his mistaken assumption of her behaviour. "That would be petty, spiteful, and completely passive-aggressive conduct, Mr. Salvatore," she sniffed imperiously, sticking her nose in the air as he chuckled warmly.

    "And, of course, the Miss Ari Parrish Mode of Conduct is: Aggression All The Way, No Passivity Allowed; obviously," was his dry rejoinder as they grinned at each other in perfect accord.

    "Ah, he  _can_  learn!" she cried exultantly, batting her eyelashes at him mockingly as he sputtered indignantly.

    Placing his hand over his heart, he feigned distress. "Miss Ari, you wound me!"

    Her snarkiest grin was on full display as she sighed affectedly, and murmured, "Oh, if only!"

    He slid down slightly in the seat as he tilted his head back and shouted with laughter, thoroughly enjoying her riotous, uninhibited  _joie de vivre_  as he let go of his typical, brooding attitude for now, and just gave in, surrendering to the temptation of following her 'live for now, take pleasure in the moment' advice of the previous evening. He straightened up suddenly, frowning in confusion as he sniffed at the air, before twisting in his seat to peer behind him at the bag that he'd parked on the seat next to a blissfully snoozing Maarit when he'd settled himself into the passenger seat. "I smell . . . I knew I could  _nearly_  taste . . ." he muttered, his head nearly buried inside the canvas as he dug around curiously – "AHA!" – waving his plundered prize victoriously as she snorted at his childish glee. ". . . Chocolate!" he crowed, eyeing the clear lid to determine what lay beneath. "Ohhhh . . . Devil's Food Cake –  _this_  was why you were picking my brains all through A.P.L.S. today – it's  _Zach's_  favourite," he realised, staring at her in surprise.

    She hummed in agreement, waiting for it – "You're going to make me ask, aren't you?" he sighed, pouting a bit. "Fine – it's like pulling teeth with you, Parrish – I'll ask . . . what's with the five-star cuisine?" waving the container practically beneath her nose, where she couldn't possibly miss it, before she pushed his hand away with a pronounced eye-roll.

    "A bribe – for forgiveness," she claimed, giving him a sidelong smirk as he glared at the succinct retort. "Zachary Salvatore, as a member of one of the Founding Families of Mystic Falls, represented his family as a guest at my welcoming party, back on the first of September," she elaborated, smiling at his sudden close attention to her words. "It was a rather warm day, and the champagne was flowing rather freely thanks to Mrs. Carol Lockwood, the Mayor's wife, as she continually reminded everyone over the course of the afternoon, and we all ended up rather flushed and overheated.

    "Zachary was really bad – he was yanking at his tie as though he thought it was going to strangle him, and he nearly did pull it too tight at one stage, before I told him that I had a pool out in the backyard – and so, seeing as everyone else was in the front parlour or the kitchen, he was more than welcome to take a dip and cool off," Stefan was starting to smirk wickedly as he caught the drift of where this was going. "He accepted with rather indecent haste, and barrelled out the back door, stripping down to his boxers and leaping in with a great splash – which was a fatal error, of course, as the noise did attract some attention," she was grinning as widely as he was now, highly entertained by her recollections of that day – Mrs. Lockwood's rather poorly disguised lustful stares at the flustered Zach . . . well, really, who knew that a man could blush so deeply all over, unless you actually saw him stripped down to the bare essentials – Sheila Bennett's  _and_  Jenna Sommer's barely restrained hilarity over the whole affair, as well as Ari herself in that moment, her face carefully blank even as her eyes sparkled with impish glee, handing the embarrassed elder Salvatore a towel with which to huddle in, hiding himself from the approving stares of the – clearly – Desperate Housewives of Mystic Falls!

    Her vividly detailed and hilarious descriptions of the ensuing chaos had them both in stitches as Ari struggled to concentrate on not driving them off the road, or into another car, while he guffawed in merriment, holding his sides as he pictured the scene in his head – oh, he was going to give his great-nephew, many times removed, some hell over this! Sobering reluctantly, he pulled himself back up in his seat, staring out the windshield as he commented, "Much as I hate to be a buzzkill – there  _was_  a reason why we met up in the undercover garage . . . other than my urge to exact due justice away from the prying eyes of the public . . ." trailing off with a grin that faded into a slightly grim stare as he remembered the stated motive for their private conference away from the boarding-house – Damon.

    "Yeah, yeah, there is that – and we really do need to talk about it," Ari grimaced a bit, biting her lip in frustration. "Your diet is – pardon the crudity – really fucking with your ability to function effectively as a vampire, Stefan," she looked over as he winced at her bluntness. "I'm not trying to be critical, or judgemental, I'm aware that you have your reasons, the problem is – with your ability to compel humans being a tragic casualty of your lifestyle – Vicki was holding Maarit in the hospital, and fragments of her memory started to come back . . . Stefan," she stared at him seriously, willing him to see the point of her statement. "If something as small as that can trigger a flashback-"

    "-What could happen as time goes on, and potentially the Compulsion fades as it apparently only barely took hold in the first place, and she sees something else that sets off a reaction, or – God forbid-"

    "-Damon!" they finished in concert, sharing a bleak look – shit! This was more than  _a little bit not good_. "Great!" he groaned, glaring through the windshield. "I can already tell that this is going to be a  _wonderful_  conversation . . ."

* * *

    Damon's attention was half-fixed, half-wandering, as he chatted ever-so-casually to Elena Gilbert – God's grief, she really  _did_  look just like Her – smoothly introducing carefully calculated little 'bombs' into their conversation that were designed to drive mental splinters into the oblivious mortal's tender flesh, irritating her, upsetting her sense of complacency about her newly budding relationship with his baby brother . . . and speaking of which – his vampiric hearing picked up on a low, throbbing purr from an engine turning into their street – having seen, and heard of, the British newcomer's 'bomb-ass' car (really?), along with her burgeoning friendship with said younger brother of yours truly, he had little doubt that the throaty rumble belonged to her luxury convertible . . . was that where Stefan had disappeared to today, he mused idly, still gossiping nonchalantly with his newest victim – ah, that is to say, Miss Elena Gilbert.

    He was listening to the slight commotion outside – too quiet for mortal ears, as  _Elena_  was utterly ignorant of anything other than himself, for the moment – of a playful argument between Arianna Parrish and Stefan, that was suddenly punctuated with a laughing shriek from the girl, as Stefan apparently had the ability to amuse people – who knew – while one deliberate set of measured footsteps paced towards the front door as Miss Parrish giggled madly and ordered her companion to 'set her back on her own two feet, dammit!' while Stefan replied in the negative with a chuckle.

    When opportunity knocks, Damon reflected with an inward smirk, get ready for mayhem! Stefan acting the part of an anxious bridegroom, or a caveman, with this new girl, while his prospective girlfriend was already present in the house, would play very nicely into his hands. Damon quickly wrapped up his premeditated and poisonous tête-à-tête with Elena regarding his fatalistic attitude (or so he claimed) towards brand-new, potentially on-the-rebound, relationships actually going the distance, just as Elena heard Stefan's voice through the door as he exclaimed at something Arianna had apparently done in protest of her position as little more than a lugged parcel. The door was manhandled open, with Stefan nearly falling over the threshold as he howled in laughter at the resentful – and  _loud_  – objections being issued at the top of the girl's lungs, as she hollered for him to let her loose!

    The hilarity died a sudden, painful death as he caught sight of his brother at that moment, with a puzzled, "Stefan?" questioning his abrupt silence as Arianna twisted on his shoulder, futilely trying to see what the problem was. Stefan barely took any notice of Elena's frozen form standing, as though petrified, right next to the subject of his attention, the focus of the icy expression he was now wearing upon his face. A sudden breeze swept through the open door, swirling the air and ruffling Damon's inky locks as he inhaled sharply and froze, the beginnings of dark veins flaring and distending beneath his eyes as the orbs reddened at the very edges, his blood-hunter's instincts coming to life in an instant at  _that scent_  – heaven's mercy, how could Stefan stand it?

    His mouth watering, Damon had to angle his body slightly away from Elena in order to hide his swift escalation towards his full vampiric visage as his canines tingled with the sudden thirst – unbelievable! How could one person, one young girl, smell  _so good_? Stefan, seeing his explicit, undeniable reaction to the enticing blood-scent from his friend, lifted his upper lip back from his teeth in a warning snarl, his deep-green eyes nearly glowing with rage as his own vampiric instincts were barely contained beneath his skin, the flesh paling and shadows appearing to move eerily across the hard-set features as he struggled to hold back the distinctive shift into raging demonic fury in front of Elena. Silently their eyes duelled, turbulent green clashing with electric blue, from opposite ends of the entryway as the elder struggled not to lose his control, while the younger brashly defied him to make that very mistake.

    Barely standing inside the door, his severe declaration was a warning to both his brother AND Ari, "Damon . . ." bringing a startled exclamation from the girl who was still hanging in a fireman's carry over his shoulder, as the dangerous intensity in the air finally faded somewhat at what happened next . . .

    Coming upright with a sharp, " _What_?" she abruptly squalled in pain as the back of her rising head collided smartly with the top of the doorframe. " _AIIYEEEE_!" she yowled, dropping her head back down rapidly as her hands clutched at the site of her newest injury, whimpering in distress. "Ohhhhh . . . there's the head injury you were trying to avoid last time," she moaned pathetically as Stefan cringed, first from the awful sound of the meaty  _thunk_  as skull met timber, and then from her piteous appeals for sympathy – a plea he was more than happy to comply with, he decided – right before her foot swung down and through, driving into his solar plexus as he grunted and hunched a little from loss of breath . . . damn, she kicked like a mule! Her soft calls for compassion had rapidly shifted to a semi-bellow as she ranted at him crossly, "Didja ever think about actually getting inside the bloody door, you  _flaming moron_! Jesus, I nearly brained myself!" wheezing a bit, he shuffled into the house properly, setting her back on her feet as he rubbed tentatively at the slightly enflamed, but rapidly healing, spot on his stomach where her boot had landed.

    Grinning like a lunatic, but careful to wipe away any outward display of glee before drawing their attention to where it rightfully belonged – on him – Damon cleared his throat pointedly as the irritated blonde, still holding her head with both hands as though she was afraid it might fall off otherwise, turned to him with an aggravated glare, looking him up and down thoroughly, before snorting dismissively and looking to Elena with a sheepish grin. "Miss Gilbert, sorry about that thoroughly humiliating little scene back there," her dark look was directed at the one upon whom she clearly placed ALL blame for that. "Stefan recently discovered his impulsive side, and we're still working out the kinks before I'm satisfied that he's suitable to go back out in public!" he snorted indignantly at her summation, eyeing her in disbelief.

    Disdaining to reply, he darted a glare at his brother, filled with evil intent, before facing Elena fully with a clearly forced smile that looked quite painful on his rigid features. "Elena, I didn't know you were coming over . . . today." Eyeing him sidelong in incredulity, Arianna crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall as she rolled her eyes.

    Damon would've been enchanted – if he had actually been the type – he had a feeling that this girl was an über-BITCH, when the mood struck, shades of his iron-willed, vicious, and incredibly sexy mentor, Sage. But at the moment, he was on a mission; sabotaging Stefan was a priority, in order to distract him from his own true purpose here in town, so – "Clearly!" – the comment, seemingly designed to be  _sotto voce_ , was loud enough to carry to Elena's ears, as her face fell in disappointment, obviously downcast by all that she had heard and witnessed today.

    Gathering herself for another attempt – God, you had to admire her unfailing optimism – at sticking to her guns, she smiled determinedly, walking towards Stefan slowly, saying, "I know, I should have called-"

    "-Oh, don't be silly! You're welcome anytime – isn't she, Stefan?" thrusting the knife in as Stefan offered him a particularly venomous stare at the suggestion, one that Elena was clearly going to end up taking the wrong way . . .

    Ari snorted inwardly – why, oh why, did it always seem to fall to her? Here she comes, The Saviour, riding to the rescue, ready to save the day . . . she listened with half an ear as Damon Salvatore blathered on about home videos and family albums – yeah, as if! She would have loved to see what he'd have come up with to slither his way out of the hole he was merrily digging for his brother, if Elena had actually pushed for it, she mused wickedly, her lips quirking at the mental image of the silver-tongued vampire suddenly being lost for words as he tried to backtrack on certain key statements that he'd made!

    First rule of giving someone else just enough rope to hang themselves, Damon – make sure that the length of said cord wouldn't make for a damned fine noose around  _your_  neck, as well!

    She tuned back in just in time to hear Stefan mutter a rather curt dismissal to Elena, rapidly deciding that intervention was not only desired, but required, at this stage if anything was to be salvaged from this disaster . . . stretching languidly, with a prolonged, lusty sigh, drawing all eyes to her, she made to pull her arms back down . . . with her left elbow jabbing sideways in a swift, sneaky manoeuvre that slammed the stiffened point sharply into the space between two of Stefan's ribs – the key to taking down a vampire in combat as a mortal, Ari had learned, was not to waste your energy in trying to match them in pure strength, but to exploit their few vulnerable spots: groin, eyes, solar plexus, kidneys, etc. The soft, giving area that lay in between the bony areas of the ribcage being a perfect case in point, as she'd just demonstrated.

    Stefan went rather pale, not even breathing for a second, as he tried to absorb the pain – what the? Taking full advantage of his white-faced silence, she stepped into the breach boldly, remarking, "Honestly,  _Stefanie_ , I really think that you could be even more awkward about this – I'm not sure  _how_ , but I am positive that you would manage it! I told you that he wasn't fit for public consumption, just yet," murmuring the last in a stage whisper to Elena, who wasn't entirely sure whether to wince in empathy at Stefan's angst-filled whine – whether from the ache in his side or in rebuttal of Ari's quip, no one was sure – or to laugh hysterically at Ari's blunt address to, and then blithe dismissal of, the looming elephant in the room.

    Damon had no such issues – he was in love! Forget . . .  _Her_. . . this girl was a  _keeper_. A living, breathing golden girl made up of piss and vinegar and sheer balls – Hallelujah! He had to meet her, for real. "We haven't been properly introduced yet, tut-tut,  _Stefan_ ," the groan this time could not possibly be mistaken as anything other than a very vocal disclaimer of Stefan EVER planning to introduce this pair to each other – oh Lord, the chaos that would erupt! Damon shrugged blithely at his wordless denial of any such intent, and decided to do the honours for himself. "Damon Salvatore, at your service, my lady," as he executed a flourishing bow while she eyed him nonchalantly, Elena's eyes popping wide at the dandyish behaviour, with Stefan muttering dire imprecations underneath his breath as he glared at his brother, to no avail. "And you must be-"

    "-Completely uninterested, Mr. Salvatore, but thank you anyway," she trilled brightly, slanting her tawny eyes at him in a fashion that had Stefan standing abruptly upright, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting in eerie premonition, as he stared raptly at the two, their eyes locked in a duel – icy blue and blazing amber – as Damon, far from being offended, grinned wider than ever at her cutting dismissal.

_Damn_  . . . Stefan mouthed the word silently, it was like staring at a twisted mirror-image – where one was dark, the other was light; Damon was as smooth and slippery as oil, while Ari was fierce and fiery – yet they were exactly the same, underneath it all . . . the effortless, lazy charm, and those crooked, utterly infuriating smirks that curled one side of their lips as their eyes pierced through you like they could see inside your soul, the way that they punctuated their statements with those sly, sideways looks, and the irreverent cynicism with the undertones of dark malice in their mocking laughter – and yet the difference was marked . . . Ari was clearly still capable of love, tenderness and empathy for the lives of others. If Lily Salvatore had ever given birth to a daughter, could it have been someone like Ari, Stefan wondered blankly. Could this brazen but sweet, endlessly compassionate, and yet bitingly witty, young woman ever have been the baby sister that he had yearned for all of his life, but for a sad twist of Fate?

    "URKK!" he decided to take the part that she had assigned for him, that of rash and impulsive behaviour, and run with it, snatching her into a quick headlock as she grunted and wriggled in shock, offering her the ultimate indignity of a noogie as she squealed in protest, while Elena clapped her hands over her mouth, unsure of whether she wanted to giggle madly or just scream at the top of her lungs at the insanity that was running rampant in this place . . . Ari finally worked her way loose, flushed and panting, patting her clothes back into place as she glared at the sniggering Stefan, his shoulders shaking in mirth as he slumped against the wall.

    She opened her mouth to yell, and shut it abruptly as Damon just had to open his mouth and insert both feet, all at once – "Wow . . . the pheromones are getting a bit thick in the air around here – should we leave you two alone?" – he glared blackly at Stefan as the laughter finally subsided. Trading a look of bewilderment with Ari, who blankly mouthed the word 'Pheromones?' to him, he shrugged in confusion before looking to Elena, who was now staring between the two of them with hurt in her dark eyes . . . what . . . pheromones . . . oh no, what the . . . really, Damon?

    Just as the realisation hit him, Ari burst out in hysterical whoops, her raucous giggles setting him off as his head fell back against the wall and he sagged a bit, snorting with laughter at the idea. Every time they managed to taper off somewhat, one would catch the other's eye, and the cycle would start over. Finally, Ari calmed herself enough to straighten up from her doubled-over position, wheezing slightly as she tried to catch her breath, and looked Damon straight in the eye, her gaze clear and direct and unflinching as she stared him down. A lopsided smirk curled her mouth as she softly, but clearly, stated for everyone in the room to hear, "I honestly don't know what's wrong with you, but I'm prepared to bet good money . . ." propping her left hand on her hip as she leaned her opposite shoulder against the wall, ". . .  _Very good money_ , indeed, that it can be summed up into at least one word that is comprised of a great many syllables that renders it extremely difficult for the average citizen to pronounce." Having offered her considered opinion on the matter, she proceeded to ignore him, turning to look at Stefan as he finally managed to stand upright without supporting himself on the wall.

    Curling his lip condescendingly, he slung his arm around Ari's shoulders companionably and, sneering at Damon, backed up her declaration with his own scathing retort, "Damon, meet the newest member of the Salvatore clan – my newly adopted sister, Arianna, sorry . . .  _Ari_  – who, while I dearly love her, is really not my type-"

    "-Which is all things sad, sweet and brunette!" even as she eyed him askance for the outlandish claim, she couldn't resist murmuring their personal tag for Elena Gilbert in dulcet tones, but not so quietly as to not allow the girl to pick up on it, judging by the becoming pink flush in her cheeks, as her chocolate-coloured eyes sparkled brightly at the thought. Ari winked at her with a conspiratorial grin as she giggled softly, and Damon scowled at the interference with his saboteur efforts – how dare she put aright what he'd purposely set astray!

    ". . . Don't worry, Damon, I'm more than happy to be generous, and share my new sibling with you – clearly, you're foundering without the guidance of a strong, determined female's influ-" Stefan cut himself off midstream as he cocked his head and listened intently to the faint, clattering sound on the second level of the house and, as they all stopped to listen, Ari heard it as well.

    Clapping her hands gleefully, she announced, "Ah, Zachary IS home!" as Stefan's arm fell away when he turned to face the stairs as Zachary rounded the next flight and pounded down towards them, his voice lifted in ire.

    "DAMON! I SWEAR, IF YOU HAVE BROUGHT  _ANOTHER_  BUNCH OF DRUNKEN SORORITY GIRLS INTO-" stumbling to a dead halt as he caught sight of Elena's wondering face over Stefan's shoulder, his mouth working in horror as he flushed brightly in mortification at his erroneous assumption, stuttering and mumbling as he tried to think of something to cover his previous spate of verbal diarrhoea. "Um – uh – tha' – I – I heard voices – and laughter!" blushing brighter still as he tripped over his tongue while trying to excuse himself.

    "Zachary!" deciding to take pity on the poor man as he withered under Damon's icy glare, Ari looked back over her shoulder, calling out cheerfully, "I thought I heard your dulcet tones – how are you?" Zach heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh, seizing on the opportunity to save himself with both hands, as he peered into the shadows where Ari stood, eyes bright, as she smiled at him gently.

    "I know that voice – Arianna Parrish!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide as he beamed happily, striding forward to embrace her warmly as she chuckled. "How have you been, sweetheart?"

    "Oh, I've had a wonderful time with school, obviously," she rolled her eyes drolly as they withdrew from the hug with Zach laughing softly at her dry tones, "Made some friends, made some enemies, gave my teachers a few new gray hairs – y'know, the usual – how have YOU been?" grinning at him in amusement as he grimaced teasingly.

    "Oh, yeah, you know – recovering. I might have actually preferred the intoxicated Alpha Phi Betas, after all," he cracked, laughing heartily as she pulled her hand away and pressed it to her heart, pouting in feigned hurt at his gibe. "At least I know that a bunch of wasted, half-dressed females wouldn't be able to talk me into embarrassing myself by getting into a situation that I knew better than to get into, in the first place!" they chuckled at the memory of his red-faced aggravation as he valiantly tried to muster up the lingering shreds of his tattered dignity in the face of the spirited wolf-whistles and appreciative, wide-eyed gazes from the  _ladies_  – yeah, right – present at that infamous party! He clicked his tongue in self-deprecation, still flinching at the reminder of having Carol Lockwood not-so-inconspicuously lurking in his vicinity, all but licking her lips, for the rest of the afternoon, before he could finally politely take his leave of the lazily amused Ari, and escape with his hide still in one piece!

    Damon listened in disbelief as all of his fine work this evening was swiftly unravelled by the manipulative, scheming little do-gooder in front of him, throwing her tawny head back as she giggled merrily at Zach's sly little asides as they chattered on – had he actually thought he'd fallen in LOVE? Bah! He  _hated_  her, that – that – no-good, sneaky, lowdown symbol of virtue and morality – how could she betray him like this? Sneaking a peek from the corner of his eye at Her clearly inferior little impersonator, he saw her doing the exact same thing to him, the dark eyes displaying her clear scepticism of his earlier allegations and subtle little jeers at Stefan's so-called honour and candour . . . that bitch! How dare she doubt the truth behind his completely and utterly deceitful manipulations! His eyes narrowed on the back of the Hated One as she casually tore up and destroyed – metaphorically speaking – all of his carefully laid groundwork, intended to land Stefan in hot water with his new girlfriend . . . oh, vengeance would be  _sweet_.

    "Actually, speaking of, or NOT referring to, that event-which-shall-not-be-mentioned, Zachary-"

    "-Please, sweetheart, call me Zach, like everyone else does. Zachary reminds me of my dearly departed mother . . ." Zach quickly crossed himself and kissed his fingers as he gazed heavenwards in honour of one of the only women he'd ever truly loved in his life. Ari politely crossed herself as well out of respect, finishing with a quick kiss of the crucifix that she'd fished from the neckline of her top, as Zach flashed an appreciative smile at her actions, before continuing, ". . . May God rest her sainted soul, and no one else has ever called me that since she passed away when I was seventeen."

    She nodded her head in assent. "Zach, then, I have something for you . . ." gesturing to Stefan, and then scowling darkly, as he played ignorant of her meaning. "Stefan . . ."

    "What?"

    "Hand it over, Salvatore."

    "But I thought it was for me," he whimpered pathetically, poking his bottom lip out in a mock-sulk as Elena giggled shrilly from the parlour and wandered closer to the steps, fascinated by their indulgent banter.

    "Nope."

    "Awwww . . ." Stefan relented as Zach sniggered into his hand, fishing the pack out of his sweater, while Damon sulked conspicuously in the background – his frown deepening when nobody bothered to pay his broodiness the slightest bit of attention – was this how it was to be Stefan on a bad hair day, he wondered. With the container safely in Ari's hands, she passed it to Zach with a smile, as Stefan decided to continue winding her up with his teasing, "There you go, Uncle Zach – your br-"  _THUNK!_

    "-A PEACE OFFERING!" she interjected loudly to cover his TMI disclosure, while her foot swung back and then forward into his shin with the pointy toe of her boot, the impact sounding like wood striking stone, as she suddenly flinched at the sharp, shooting pain in her big toe. Peering over her shoulder, she made a theatrical production out of it in a bid for sympathy, screwing her face up in an expression of exaggerated anguish, and whimpering piteously, ". . . Ow?" as Elena simultaneously grinned hugely at her over-the-top performance, and cringed in concern – it HAD sounded like a rather painful blow!

    Stefan was leaning idly back against the wall again, one dark eyebrow arched sardonically as he murmured drily, "Really?" as Ari glared at him vengefully and offered him the traditional, two-fingered salute as Zach coughed ostentatiously, struggling to keep a straight face. Seeing her eyes snap to him, he made a show of examining his gift, looking it over as a wide grin split his face.

    "Devil's Food Cake? How on earth . . . ?" he beamed as she indicated Stefan with a jerk of her shoulder, both of them smiling at him as he gushed over her present to him. ". . . Thank you!" he cradled it tenderly, like a mother with her newborn.

    "No problem, Zach," she murmured. "But, I did wonder about something, before," he cocked his head curiously as she continued, "Stefan and I made a hell of a racket coming into the house today – you didn't hear that?" biting her lip in thought as he shook his head in bewilderment, her face carefully set in an expression of mild curiosity, even as her mind raced over the possibilities of how to exploit this fact, and hopefully shatter Damon's hopes of influencing and manipulating Elena before he'd ever really begun. At the very least, she should be able to minimise any future damage by having Elena ready to actively question, and possibly discount entirely, any snippets of harmful information that she received that could be tracked back to him.

    "So, in review," she stated, apparently idly, watching from the corner of her eye as Stefan came alert at the barely discernable edge of triumph in her clear tones, while the burning sensation at the base of her neck intensified, indicating that Damon had picked up on her subtle elation as well – and he DID NOT appreciate it – "Screaming, yelling, arguing and shrieks of torment and anguish seem to escape your hearing entirely – whereas hysterical, frenzied laughter, and behaviour, on the other hand, has you racing down the stairs in agitation, ready to accuse your eldest nephew of all manner of deviant conduct," by this stage, Elena was swallowing hard and wondering why she'd ever bothered to listen to this guy in the first place – no matter the fact that he was Stefan's older brother and, besides that,  _absolutely_. . .  _ridiculously_  . . .  _gorgeous_!

    She felt a bit foolish, as she began to edge away from him, her foot slipping onto the first step that lead from the parlour into the main entryway, closer to Stefan, and further from Damon, while Ari delivered the final blow on the theme she'd outlined so masterfully, "Damon!" she stared over her shoulder, eyebrows lowered reproachfully over her piercing gaze. "What on earth  _have_  you been doing, to have your poor, beleaguered Uncle Zach panicking over people laughing and having fun around here, hmm?"

    That look in Damon's eyes generally meant that someone was about to die a sudden, unnatural death; taking careful note, Zach clapped his hands together briskly to dispel the deadly silence hanging in the air as he laughed awkwardly and babbled, "Yes – well – best not to . . . uh, go too far in  _that_  direction – if you know what I mean? Especially in, ah, mixed company," his rushed, uptight tone spelling out that this topic was not up for discussion. "Being as this is . . . well . . . a bachelors' household, and all," his tight grin conveying the impression that three healthy, single, relatively young men living together in one house, without any females in  _permanent_  residence, could get up to all sorts of shenanigans that respectable young ladies – such as the two currently present in the boarding-house – should not have to hear about!

    Ari was nearly tempted to applaud him enthusiastically – if it wouldn't have completely destroyed the effect that she'd been aiming for – at his performance of a flustered, tongue-tied and responsible gentleman, who was struggling not to air his eldest nephew's dirty laundry in public, setting a lovely little seal on Elena Gilbert's brand-new perspective of the seething vampire . . . perfect! Well done, team! And, now that her work was done – and Damon looked as though he was about to burst an artery, whether his own or someone else's – it was time to exit, stage left!

    Swivelling to face Elena once more, and entirely dismissing Damon even while he smouldered blackly at her, she smiled ruefully as she clasped both hands together, "Forgive me, Miss Gilbert, one of the reasons for our shock – mine and Stefan's – at finding you here, was the lack of a vehicle sighted outside when we arrived . . . ?" her brow arched inquiringly as the other girl blushed brightly.

    "OH! Oh, yeah, no, I – I – walked, I walked from the Grill . . . in town," she stammered awkwardly, fidgeting with the hair at the side of her face before sweeping it behind her ear and fiddling with her necklace as she bit her lip.

    Taking pity on her, Ari spread her hands expressively as she smiled. "Well, that explains it then . . . so, do you need a ride back to town, or home, Miss Gilbert?" she asked politely.

    "Uh, yeah, I . . . if that's okay?" she stuttered, eyeing Ari anxiously.

    Ari just spread her hands wider, as if questioning her hesitation. "It wouldn't be the first time I've been a free taxi service – whether here in Mystic Falls, or elsewhere," she stated calmly, her lips quirking as Elena clamped her mouth shut and just nodded vigorously, obviously figuring that no comment was her safest option.

    Stefan pushed off from the wall, standing straight as his gaze questioned Ari's intent as she turned to him. "I thought we needed to set up for our project this semester . . . ?" his brow lifting in question as she ran her tongue behind her teeth in consideration of that point before looking meaningfully to Zach.

    Everyone turned to stare at him, even Damon, as he wondered what the hell she was up to now, while she muttered softly, "Somehow, I think school is the least of your worries, right now," twisting back to face an inquisitive Elena, whose eyes widened in intrigue, as Ari leaned towards her in conspiratorial fashion, one hand bracketing the side of her face as she stage-whispered, "I really think we should leave them to it, before Zach loses his cool and starts yelling at his disorderly, rabble-rousing nephews right in front of his unexpected guests!" her eyes flicking to Zach, whose eyebrows nearly shot up in shock before he caught the drift of her intent and proceeded to lower them ominously, doing his best to give off the impression of an aggravated elder, who was simply dying to lay into his disobedient hooligan relatives for their unruly conduct, being held back only by his genteel distaste for exhibiting such behaviour in mixed company.

    Elena bowed her head, fighting off a sly grin, at the idea of Damon being called onto the carpet, as Ari shot Zach a subtle wink while he struggled not to smile at Damon's palpable, ever-increasing fury at being outwitted by this shrewd young woman. Ari heaved a great sigh and rubbed at her forehead as she looked back at Stefan. "It really does feel like Karma is out to get us, over this stupid bloody assignment, though," she grumbled, closing her eyes in frustration at having to postpone their preparation – yet again.

    "Tomorrow!" he spouted suddenly, as her eyes shot open again to stare at him. Spreading his hands in appeal, he shrugged. "No school – they declared it as a curriculum day on account of the Comet, so . . ." she grinned slightly in realisation. "Unless, of course, you're planning on attending the fête they're putting on in the Town Square-"

    "-Pssh!" she rubbished the idea immediately, swiping the air in front of her face dismissively as she rolled her eyes. "All of that stuff is for the kids! Every parent, or at least those with half a brain, will have them running around in that square like little ruffians tomorrow, wearing out their energy so that, when it's time for the Comet to be viewed at night, they'll maybe last a coupla hours or so before they crash and get into bed by about 10 o'clock at the latest," she predicted wisely, eyes gleaming with humour.

    Stefan inclined his head, lips tilting in a small smirk. "Tomorrow it is . . . your place?" he queried, as she nodded in acquiescence.

    "Oh, I think so. For privacy's sake alone, even if nothing else," she slanted a glance at Damon, before flicking her gaze back to Stefan. "At my place, the only one we've gotta worry about disturbing is Maarit, if you keep her from her naptime, but I'm pretty sure you're smarter than that," grinning at him while he shook his head with a sheepish smile.

    "I don't think anyone's fool enough to mess with Miss Maarit," he assured her, even as he turned to face Elena and offer her a farewell, hoping to assist Ari's strategy of a quick exit for the pair before Mt. Damon erupted in spectacular fashion, while also seeking to make amends for his earlier churlishness – dammit, if Ari hadn't been here, he fumed, he'd have made a right royal mess of the whole situation . . . and  _Damon_  would've come out of it looking, and smelling, like a rose! If he didn't manage to control his kneejerk reactions to the very thought of having him anywhere near the people he cared about, then Ari was right – Damon had already won. His mouth curled up slightly in an apologetic grimace as he looked into the deep-brown eyes. "Elena . . . I hope that we'll be able to get the chance to talk at some stage, about . . . about . . . I know that while we've talked a lot over the last few days, that, that there are still things that I haven't told you . . . that I need to tell you," he rolled his shoulders tensely, uneasy about what he could actually tell her without revealing things – secrets – that could not be shared . . .

    She stared at him for a moment, face blank, as she debated the offer – despite having second (and maybe third?) thoughts about the validity of Damon Salvatore's seemingly casual little stories regarding Stefan's past, he'd still raised some rather compelling issues – Stefan seemed like the ultimate mystery guy . . . and while that was tempting at first, calling to her to him, to try and figure him out, would it be worth it in the end? Would she like what she found . . . could she afford to take this risk . . . she just wasn't sure any longer, all of the certainty and optimism that she'd felt after chatting with Bonnie and Caroline at the Grill, the confidence that had lead her here, seemed to have melted away, leaving her confused and hesitant about the next step.

    Mustering up a tight, unconvincing smile, she took the last step to come up into the foyer, facing him as she shrugged lightly. "I know . . . I just . . . can we . . . I need some time, to think," she nodded her head, as if trying to convince herself that she meant what she was saying. "Um, I'm sure, with school, and everything . . . we'll see each other," she mumbled, flushing slightly as she tried to put her  _thoughts_  into some kind of coherent order, let alone her  _words_! Giving it up as a bad job for the moment, she rolled her shoulder noncommittally as she walked past him while Ari stepped aside to give her room, muttering a barely audible goodbye as she went towards the door. Stopping next to Zachary, she murmured a soft apology for 'barging in'; even as he waved her off with a slight glare at Stefan's crestfallen face, and an awkward, yet sincere, smile for the dejected girl.

    Upon seeing that his smear campaign clearly hadn't been a total loss, Damon perked up again; a cold smile crossed his face as the blue eyes burned with triumph. Stepping forward while Ari shot him a venomous look, he took her hand in his to bid her farewell – for now. "My sweet little  _sister_ ," he purred, his eyes sparkling maliciously as Stefan growled and Zach's eyebrows shot up, "Oh, yeah,  _Uncle Zach_ , didn't Stefan tell you – he's adopted her as our very own, an honorary Salvatore," tightening his hold in warning as she rolled her eyes in disgust and went to slip her fingers free. "He DID promise to share – so, Little Bit, I suppose we must say adieu for the moment." Clasping her hand in both of his, he went to lift it to his mouth before she cringed and snatched it away in distaste, cradling her fingers against her chest defensively, as she played up to the crowd every bit as much as he had.

    "Uh –  _ew_  – no, I don't think so," she sing-songed in an overbright voice, ringing with distaste, as Stefan resettled himself against the wall with eyes half-closed to hide the anticipatory gleam and his right foot lazily kicked up behind him while he waited for the zinger. "Sorry –  _so sorry_  – it's just that I suddenly got this rather stunning mental image, what with poor Zach and his haste in rushing down to break up the orgy he thought was going on before, of where those lips have more than likely been – recently!" backing up a little as she offered him a sickly-sweet grin.

    Zach had to turn away to hide his face-splitting smirk while Elena nearly died inside, her stomach cramping a bit at the thought – good grief! She could just see it – it was such an overtly gentlemanly gesture, a sign of good manners, that if he had been moved to say goodbye to her in such a fashion – she wouldn't have even considered refusing . . . more than likely, she would have been charmed by the old-fashioned courtesy!

    Spinning on her heel, after briskly snapping off a mocking military salute as a farewell to the slack-jawed – yet quickly recovering, as his eyes narrowed dangerously at her and his teeth clicked together sharply – Damon, Ari trotted over to Zach for a hug as they said goodbye, sharing a devious smirk with Stefan on the way past as he struggled to keep a straight face for Elena's sake. Both girls gave a general wave to the room, as Ari held the door for Elena to exit, chatting idly as she pulled the door shut behind them. Ari was hobbling slightly by now – bloody hell! Her toe was killing her! Elena was three steps ahead of her when she stopped short, and twisted around to stare at Ari with a slightly nervous expression, her eyes flickering past the other girl to judge the distance between them and the front door. Opening her mouth, and then closing it without saying anything a few times, she finally sighed gustily and pulled herself together with both hands. "About . . . all of that . . . in there . . . what . . . ?" she snorted at herself in reproach at the way she was stuttering over the words, unsure of how to frame the questions that she really wanted the answers to.

    The tall blonde grinned toothily at her as she threw up her hands in frustration. "Yeah – that was kind of an epic failure in there, on all counts – which part, exactly, would you like to address . . . first?" she flourished her hand mockingly, as Elena gaped at the idea of having to work out where to even begin!

    ". . ."

    "Tell you what – just as a suggestion – why don't you take a seat, settle in, and work it all out in your head first," Ari advised kindly, when Elena just stared blankly for a moment. She nodded briskly, facing forwards again as she went to the car and then spinning back around when she replayed the words in her head –  _why don't YOU take a seat_? What the? Her brows shot up as she spotted Ari walking backwards up the path to the front door, holding up her hands as she saw Elena gazing at her in bewilderment. "It's alright, just gotta see about some unfinished business," Elena eyed her sceptically as she shrugged with a mischievous smirk, "Okay, so I gotta go wring Stefan's neck, then." Snorting with disbelieving laughter, Elena put her hand on the bonnet to support herself as she doubled over in giggles when Ari's expression shifted to resentful self-pity as she gestured towards her foot with a pout. "Dammit, his shins are like steel – I think I broke my toe!"

    Opening the door enough to poke her head around the edge, she slanted her eyes at Zach to grin sheepishly at him. "Blabbermouth over here," jerking her head to indicate Stefan, "Was right – the cake  _is_  a bribe for redemption," grinning as Zach huffed out a laugh, before swivelling her head to glare at Stefan as she stuck her boot through the door to point at it indignantly. "Bloody hell – it IS broken, just so y'know, you doofus!" He spread his arms wide in mute appeal, even as he grinned lazily at her, as if asking  _and-what-did-you-expect-when-you-kicked-a-vampire_?

    She put up four fingers for him to see, before one went down as the other three were pointed at him in mute accusation, eyes narrowed, and finally peered around at Damon, staring back at her implacably with his arms folded over the black shirt stretched tightly across his broad chest. Waggling her fingers mockingly, with a cold-eyed, snarky little jeer, she left them to it as the door closed and they heard her rambling down the path to her car.

    The deathly hush in the room continued as they all listened to the throaty roar as they took off, heading away from the boarding-house. Stefan was grinning like a loon as he deciphered the unsubtle message that she had sent him – four injuries, three of which were attributable to him in some way – she was a walking bruise factory, he sniggered mentally. Oh, well – when you play with vampires, Miss Ari, sometimes it gets a bit rough!

    What a woman! Damon caught himself at that thought, and nearly choked on the bile that rose in his throat at his perceived betrayal of the woman he loved – how could he? She deserved better than that – it was why he was here, to begin with! Now that the fierce-eyed, spirited, little spitfire wasn't around to muddle his thoughts any longer, his mind cleared as his rancour grew at recalling her goody-goody-two-shoes meddling with his plotting and conniving – damn her. Who did she think she was, that  _sexy . . . little . . . schemer_! He shook himself from his vengeful, and unexpectedly lustful, thoughts regarding the Machiavellian, wily conniver in cahoots with his brother, just in time to see Zach giving him the evil eye from across the room – ah, time to get back to work, he thought gleefully, inwardly rubbing his hands together at the thought of creating a bit more chaos. He hadn't worked out how to get under Miss Arianna Parrish's skin – yet – but Stefan and Zach? He'd figured out their soft spots years ago . . . he wouldn't even break a sweat!

    Offering Zach his smoothest, most taunting, lopsided smirk, he waited for . . . ah, there we go! The ever-predictable rolling of the eyes, the aggravated snort of contempt – oh, hang on! What was this? Blue eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he evaluated the new, dismissive gesture as his great-nephew chuffed derisively in his direction, swiping the air in front of his face as if waving away a bad odour and ostentatiously gave him the cold shoulder, turning and strutting back up the stairs and leaving the brothers to their own devices as he held onto the container of dessert gifted to him by the girl . . . the girl! Now he remembered seeing her make that exact same gesture previously – damn it, she was giving these idiots ideas . . . thoughts that they could actually stand up to him, defy his will – the next thing you know, they'll be laying down the law to him . . . ridiculous!

    This had to be nipped in the bud, quick smart. And the best way to do that will be to put Miss Arianna firmly in her place, showing her that no one disregarded or challenged his command of any situation – when he said jump everyone else better fall into line, or there would be bloodshed. Of course, that was a given, anyway, but seeing as Stefan hadn't caught on to that little ploy after all these years, why would anyone else? No, he just had to make a few examples here and there, spill a little blood, make a bit of noise, and everything would fall back into place just the way he liked it – with everyone firmly under his thumb, too petrified to confront him, just in case he decided to chuck a tantrum and go on a killing spree . . . it was just too easy these days, it would almost be boring if it wasn't so much fun to see them flinch every time he walked into the room . . .

    He caught the movement from the corner of his eye, turning his head to observe Stefan moving slowly, yet purposefully, into the living room to stand in front of him – there was an almost stalking quality to his silent, deliberate tread, a smooth, dangerous awareness that he hadn't seen from his brother in a long while, not since . . . his upper lip curled back over his teeth in a wide grin that was more of a snarl as they confronted each other silently, prowling tiger versus sinuous, coiled cobra as Stefan looked him over condescendingly, a stare that said: just give me an excuse, one good excuse, and I'll finish it, right here and now. Hell, the only time Stefan ever faced him like this was when he was high on human blood! Had the Ripper come out to play?

    Bringing his hands together, his mirthless smile widened as he clapped mockingly, in time with his words, "Well, well, well, look who's been keeping secrets! Gotta admit, this might be the best surprise of all, Stef . . . I do like a girl with spunk," eyeing each other with malice and spite as Stefan's face blanched and tightened in icy fury. Yeah, just like he'd thought, Arianna Parrish was the key to all of this; once she was brought to heel the others would follow along behind her like puppies – simple.

* * *

    Ari was setting the table when the doorbell rang, straightening up quickly, she winced when snapping her head around to look towards the door had the dangling silver chains of her earrings slapping her in the cheek. "Bloody hell! I knew there was a reason I don't wear jewellery," she muttered, peering around the room to make sure that everything was ready. Satisfied, she headed to the door, opening it with a welcoming smile as she saw Sheila Bennett beaming at her through the glass panes. "Good evening, Miss Sheila," she laughed as Sheila wandered in, exchanging cheek kisses while Sheila handed over the wrapped box in her hands.

    "Now, don't open that just yet, Arielle," she insisted as they walked into the parlour where Maarit was waiting impatiently to greet her friend. "And hello to you, my sweet little jewel," Sheila crooned, bending down to give the thrilled kneazle a hearty scratch under the chin as she purred loudly. "I hear you've been a right proper heroine, around here, saving that poor little girl out in the woods last night," giving Ari an intent look as the latter nodded with a small smile.

    "Oh, yes – and I have the bruises to prove it," she chuckled ruefully, rubbing at the still slightly tender area on her chest, hidden under her top. When Sheila's brow quirked, she hastened to add, "Nobody had any idea, not until Maarit came running out of there like the hounds of hell were chasing her, she jumped at me and knocked me over and took off again," shaking her head in disbelief. "As much as I'd like to think that it won't happen again, those two campers that Jenna Sommers mentioned today-"

    "-As long as the Salvatore brothers are in town, we all better brace ourselves," Sheila interjected direly, her dark eyes narrowed on Ari's face in warning, while Ari shrugged indifferently.

    "You know about as much as I do, Sheila," biting her lip as they exchanged wary glances. "The Coven sent me here – they told you as much as they thought you needed to hear, and then shipped me out here, telling me that I was perfectly safe – seeing as no vampires, werewolves, or Innates have been spotted around this area for the last fifteen years.

    "Then I get to school, and my first class on Monday morning is History, and when I walk through that door, who do I see? Stefan fucking Salvatore – in the flesh and cooling his heels at a damned desk, for all the world like he was ready to be amazed by anything that William Tanner, all-around egotistical dickhead, could teach him  _about History_ ," rolling her head back to stare at the ceiling in exasperation as Sheila snorted at the accompanying mental image to the words. "And, all of a sudden, I come home ready to righteously slam someone's fingers in the drawer, metaphorically speaking of course, and . . ." leaning forward, eyes glinting darkly, as if they were two schoolgirls having a sleepover and sharing secrets, ". . . Nobody's there.  _Everybody_  has suddenly experienced a full electronic  _and_  magical blackout, all at the same time, on two different continents separated by the Atlantic Ocean . . . what are the odds?"

    Hands on hips, Sheila muttered something highly uncomplimentary beneath her breath as Ari headed over to the mini-bar to select the wine for the evening, grasping the reinforced glass neck as if she were imagining that it was flesh and bone, possibly belonging to one of the mysteriously incommunicado Coven members she'd mentioned. "Oh, by the way," Sheila blew out a breath and braced herself – that overly bright tone didn't fool her one damned bit – the girl sounded like Bonnie when she was trying to pull the wool over her ol' Grams' eyes . . . hah! As if! "I met Damon today – that was a blast!" popping the cork with an emphatic  _thhhwaack!_  in punctuation and snagging two goblets to pour it into.

    Sheila beckoned her over, grasping for the glass – ho, boy! She needed it! "And I know you got the good brandy 'round here, too, girlie. Get it . . . Grams gonna need a chaser for this . . ." heading into the kitchen/dining-room where she could smell the most divine aroma. Inhaling deeply, she let her nose lead her over to the stove where a large, covered pot rested, Maarit prancing along at her heels, with fragrant clouds of steam billowing out as she lifted the lid. "Oh, yes, and at least  _two_  bowls of this . . . now where's the bread, Arielle?" looking over at the bread bin and going to grab the bag before Ari's annoyed hiss stopped her in her tracks. One pale finger pointed at the oven door below the stove as Ari scooped up two bowls from the table and crossed to the stove, standing off to the side while Sheila bent down to open the door, sniffing with delight at the fresh, tangy scent of warm, homemade sourdough. "Girl, if you tell me that you been up half the night cooking just for this," she began, shaking her finger in rebuke as Ari blushed lightly.

    "Ah, no, or at least . . . I know her," Ari blurted, setting the ladle down with a slight bang as she breathed in shakily. "Wild Thing – Vicki Donovan – the girl that Damon attacked last night, we're friends," picking up the ladle once more to fill the bowls as Sheila stared at her, paling slightly under her warm,  _Café-au-lait_  complexion. "I didn't just find her by chance – Maarit wasn't with her by accident when she was attacked – Maarit came with us to the Falls, and was hanging around with her in the woods for company, when it happened. I couldn't sleep last night – not just the attack – the dreams were just plain weirding me out, so when I woke up, I needed something to do with myself . . . check out my fridge," she pointed as Sheila glanced over, "Tonight's dessert selections were two out of about sixty possible options – more if I really applied myself and got creative with the basic recipes I put together."

    This was something Sheila just had to see for herself; on opening the door, she gazed for a moment, and then shut it again, shaking her head incredulously. Ari was carrying the bowls of stew to the table, but before she could head back for the bread, Sheila put her hand up to volunteer for the task; placing the bread, along with a knife, and the pot of stew on the tray and carrying it all over to set it in the middle of the table. Catching the lifted eyebrow, she shrugged. "What? Didja think I was kidding about having at least two bowls?" chuckling as Ari smirked at her. She sighed a little. "Honestly, I do wish that Bonnie was more open to all of this – I blame her father – but then, if she was here, I suppose I couldn't do this," waggling her brows as she clicked her fingers sharply, the candles on the table lighting under the quick snap of power.

    Ari smiled, before cringing slightly as she suddenly remembered – "Actually, Sheila, I didn't wanna say anything, and get your hopes up just in case, but I did talk to Bonnie today, and-" the soft shrill of the doorbell sounded at that moment, Sheila's spoonful of stew left hanging halfway between the bowl and her mouth as she sat upright in surprise, and the first stirrings of hope.

    "D'ya think . . . ?" she half-whispered, as the doorbell sounded once more. Ari rolled her eyes with a huge grin as she got to her feet.

    "By the sounds of it, it isn't just Bonnie – I was talking to Caroline, as well, after school today – I told them that they were more than welcome for dinner, and they didn't have to stay for afterwards . . . with the ceremony," she flourished her hand meaningfully when Sheila recoiled at the thought of having an outsider witnessing the Ritual, and shifted to relief once she knew that Ari had ensured the girls had an exit when they needed one – born sceptics, the both of them – and nothing was ever scarier to a determined disbeliever than the thought of having their cynicism challenged, or overturned, by seeing something that defied belief! "I better let them in," she muttered, snorting as the doorbell was pressed once again, "Before Caroline decides to just hold it down 'til we let her in!"

    Wandering over to stand in the archway leading from the front living-room into the entrance hallway, Sheila propped her shoulder on the wall, watching Ari head for the door. "That surely does sound like her," she admitted with a light laugh, even as Caroline, spotting Ari through the glass, did exactly as predicted with a wide grin on her face as Ari shook her head chidingly when she opened the door.

    "Really, Caro?"

    "Hey, we could  _smell_  that food from all the way down at the end of the street! We're  _starving_!" the bubbly blonde squeaked excitedly as she bounced inside, the two blondes hugging fondly as Bonnie smirked at her friend's giddiness.

    "Yeah, she nearly floated right out of the car trying to follow that scent," she cracked drily, repeating Caroline's greeting with Ari, and waving happily to her grandmother as Sheila smiled in welcome right before Caroline's excited greeting hug nearly bowled her over as she shrieked excitedly at seeing her.

    "Oh, Lordy me! Hello to you, too, Little Miss Forbes," Sheila laughed breathlessly as she returned the fervent embrace. "I've missed you as well, Caroline, it's been a while since you came around to spend time with your Nanna."

    "I know!" a sheepish smile crossing Caroline's face at just how long it really had been since she could even remember seeing Miss Sheila, who she'd affectionately dubbed Nanna when she was six years old, for more than a few minutes at a time if they'd run into each other in town somewhere – it just wasn't good enough! No matter what her schedule was like, what with committees and cheerleading and pageant preparations and whatnot, there was always time for family – and Miss Sheila was _family_. "I've been so awful, Nanna," she pouted regretfully, "But I'm gonna do better, I promise."

    Sheila gave her that soft, tolerant smile that she remembered from countless misadventures as a child, along with Bonnie and Elena, telling her that all was forgiven. "Hard as it is for you to believe, I do remember what it was like to be young, once upon a time," she scolded, the playful glint in her dark eyes belying her sternness as all three girls giggled merrily. "And I was a very busy young woman indeed – there were never enough hours in a day to keep up with all my social engagements," she quipped, winking at Bonnie as she flushed a bit – man, had she heard some stories about her Grams' wild, misspent youth . . . most of them from Grams herself!

    "Ooh!" she remembered the parcel she held, handing it to Ari who stared at it curiously. "It's a Southern thing," she explained ruefully. "Well, actually,  _food_  is a Southern thing but, given that you did warn us about having way too much of that as it was . . . we figured a small gift to say thank-you for welcoming us into your home was the next best choice."

    "Oh, alright."

    Sheila chuckled softly. "Well, now you know why I told you not to open up my package before, along with everything we need for tonight, there's a little token in there as well," shrugging as Ari tilted her head in curiosity. "It's an old-world custom that we adapted for our own use here in the South – your home was your refuge against the dangers of the world, and when people were invited inside, it was considered a gesture of faith and trust that the sanctity of your house, and the people dwelling within it, would be upheld by your guests – the food was an exchanged promise, a token of respect – it was like saying, 'this is the food from our own table, and we share this so that you will know that you are always welcome in our house as a guest'."

    "All of that?" Ari hummed thoughtfully, before waving them ahead of her, back into the dining room. "That stew's gonna get cold, otherwise, so let's eat!"

    "Woot, food!" Caroline led the way, following her nose, while they all chuckled at her eagerness. "Miss Maarit!" she chirped, on seeing the kneazle perched on the table, regally awaiting the newest arrivals. Bonnie and Caroline made a fuss over her for a few moments, before settling themselves in at the table and serving themselves from the pot.

    "I can't believe I didn't even take any notice of the fact that you had the table set up for four," Sheila shook her head at her own wilful blindness as she sliced up the bread thickly for all of them.

    "Just in case," Ari commented as she buttered up the slices when Sheila handed them over. "I hoped they would, so I figured that there was no harm in having everything ready if Bonnie and Caro got permission to come over tonight."

    "Well, Daddy was fine with it, seeing as I was going to a schoolmate's house, rather than . . ." Bonnie shrugged, exchanging a knowing look with Sheila, as her mouth quirked downwards in discontent. "I didn't tell him, 'cause what he doesn't know won't upset him!"

    Ari's eyes rolled heavenwards in agreement. "There are three golden rules for getting through your teen years without resorting to the premeditated murders of your parents or guardians – Misdirection; Evasion; and Omission!"

    "Right on!" Caroline concurred, "Especially if the parent or guardian in question happens to be oh, I don't know, the Sheriff!" Everyone had a good laugh over that, even Sheila, who fleetingly wondered whether she should be encouraging the flouting of parental authority, even if it was only passively . . . eh, what the hell. You were only young once, and this was the best time for them to learn about who and what they wanted to be in the future, by figuring out what rules should be followed, and which ones needed to be bent, as well as the ones that could, and should, be broken without regret or qualms. These young women would be adults soon, out in the world on their own – and even in this modern day and age, the law of the jungle tended to prevail – where only the strong survived, and the weak were prey.

    Tuning back into the conversation as Ari playfully tossed a bit of bread at Caroline as the other girl shrieked in giggling protest. "I still blame you, Caro!" pointing her finger accusingly as Bonnie nearly fell out of her chair laughing. "Stefan had the goods on me for the rest of the day – all through Languages, and even in History – he gave me  _hell_  about 'contributing to the delinquent behaviour of the elderly'," crooking her fingers in snide little quotation marks for the last part of her statement as she slouched in her chair sulkily.

    "Oh, now, I know you not gonna just leave it at that, Miss Ariel-, uh, _heh_ , Arianna!" Sheila stumbled and stuttered a bit as she caught herself before calling Ari by her real name, rather than the assumed name of Arianna Parrish, pretending to cough as if she'd had something caught in her throat to disguise her fumbling. Bonnie looked at her a bit strangely, but Caroline seemed more concerned about patting her on the back briskly to help her clear out any blockage.

    "Careful, Nanna," she joked lightly, blue eyes uneasy despite the kidding tone, "This stew is too good to waste by having it go down the wrong way!" Sheila wiped her mouth with the napkin, and cleared her throat briskly a couple of times to continue with the charade, before returning the girl's anxious smile with an easy grin of her own.

    "All better now, sweetie," she reassured her calmly, "Though I wouldn't say no to a glass of that red, Arianna, just to wash it all down properly," gesturing to the wine-bottle on the table as Ari assented with a smile, picking it up to pour a glass for Sheila, before looking in question to the others.

    "Oh, maybe-"

    "I don't know if we really sh-"

    "Oh, pish!" Sheila exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "One glass won't do you any harm, and you'll find that it goes very well with this stew, so I say, bottoms up!" she ordered briskly, indicating for Ari to pour them both a small glass. "And don't you think I've forgotten what I was talking about before, either, Missy," wagging her finger at the smirking Ari as she refilled her own glass once she'd finished with the others. "Who you been leading down the trail to Purgatory, then?"

    "You, apparently," Ari's casual statement took a moment to sink in, as Sheila sat there, unsure if she'd heard correctly, before she burst out laughing.

    Ari wiggled her eyebrows devilishly as Bonnie and Caroline looked at her sidelong, before giving up and continuing to eat and sip at their wine as Sheila just laughed and laughed. By the time she'd calmed down again, Caroline had gone back for seconds, and Bonnie was staring at the pot contemplatively, seriously considering a third bowl even as she knew that she still had to fit in dessert yet – but that stew was  _so good_! She leaned down to Maarit, sitting between her chair and Ari's, with her large eyes fixed upon the table patiently, waiting for any scraps to be handed out. "You'll finish whatever I can't, won't you, Miss Maarit?" she stage-whispered so that the others could hear. Maarit chirped at her eagerly, whiskers bristling in anticipation. "Good girl!" she winked at her with a grin, and hopped up to scoop out more of the rich, thick broth.

    "Well, Arianna," Sheila prompted. "How did somebody end up with the idea that I needed anyone to lead me by the hand down that ol' road of temptation?"

    Ari snorted. "I might have mentioned that this little undertaking of ours involved the ingestion and burning of certain herbal mixtures, and that the effects were not unlike-"

    "-Good grief, child!" the husky exclamation had Ari pursing her lips to hide a grin as Sheila stared her down across the table. "You done gone and told our own Miss Caroline Forbes that we were gonna be sitting 'round gettin' high and holding hands while singing 'Sweet Home Alabama'! And how did this boy, this Stefan, get to hearin' of it?" Sheila demanded, eyeing the grinning face with a narrowed gaze – she knew who this Stefan had to be . . . damn it, out of all the places in the world, why did those boys have to come back now? Every time they were here death and destruction followed in their wake, and things better left in the darkness and shadows tended to awaken and emerge once more, as the town became a hunting ground for supernatural creatures and the humans who pursued them in turn.

    She quickly glanced out of the window – no, the Comet hadn't shown itself yet – the last time the great fireball had hung over the town, it was a tragic time in their history; in the final, devastating stages of the War, vampires and werewolves roamed the town freely, feeding at will, until the so-called Founding Families formed the Council in order to round them up and free the town from their influence, making it safe for the ordinary citizens to go about their lives once more. Hopefully, this time around, the Comet would simply pass over without such tragedy . . . but somehow, Sheila doubted that such would be the case.

    "Actually," Ari's teasing voice cut into her reverie as she turned her eyes, and attention, back to the room, where Ari was grinning like the cat that got the cream, "It was 'Kumbaya', not 'S.H.A.', Miss Sheila, and Stefan Salvatore got an earful as he was coming over to say hello when Caro decided to get on her soapbox and tell the whole school!"

    "I did not!"

    "Caro, the only way that you could have been any louder, would be if you announced the whole thing over the school's P.A. system!" Bonnie disagreed emphatically, sniggering as her friend pouted at the perceived betrayal.

    "Bon-Bon! You're supposed to stick up for me," she whined, poking her bottom lip out like a sulky child as Ari cracked up, with Sheila smirking at the familiar byplay between the pair.

    "No . . . a good friend is supposed to tell it like it is – from The Caroline Forbes Personal Handbook of Friendship, Fashion and Fidelity," she announced, grinning victoriously as Caroline deflated.

    "Trust you to remember about that – and then to use it against me," she muttered with a small grin at having her own words tossed back at her.

    Sheila propped her chin on her hand as she winked at Ari. "Be grateful they're laughing about it now, when they were kids the arguments could go on for hours as to exactly what the rules and regulations of friendship were!" leaning back and sighing gustily, she looked around at the table, seeing the mostly empty bowls and scattered crumbs from the crusty loaf used to mop up the rich sauce from the stew. "Ooh, I think I went and made a right pig of myself – gonna hafta let it settle a bit before I try that dessert you promised me, Miss Ari," as she patted her stomach in satisfaction. Bonnie nodded fervently, feeling like her stomach had expanded to twice its usual size, as Caroline murmured in repletion. Everyone had managed at least two bowls, Sheila and Bonnie were each on their third, although Bonnie had almost finished hers, whereas Sheila had only eaten about half of what she'd dished up for herself – Maarit was bouncing around at Bonnie's feet, ready to feast.

* * *

    The groaning and moaning issuing from the parlour was a combination of agony and ecstasy on everyone's part, as they alternately blessed, and then viciously cursed, their greed and the lengths that they'd gone to in order to satisfy their cravings – the desserts were  _exquisite_ ; a decadent, velvety, dark chocolate mousse with fresh strawberries and cream or, for those desiring something a little lighter after the hearty main course, an old-style key-lime pie with a frothy, golden meringue topping that had Sheila quivering in anticipation as Ari cut a thick wedge for her and gave her a healthy dollop of orange cream on the side – it was food worthy of dying for, they had all agreed, and what a way to go!

    Ari was flat on her back on the rug in the middle of the room, staring blankly up at the chandelier, squirming uncomfortably, as her belly quivered and rumbled ominously. The only reason that she hadn't just fallen straight on her face when they had all stumbled in to sag onto the sofas and chairs, as they whimpered and whined in satiation, was the fact that she wasn't entirely certain if her stomach wouldn't end up exploding if she put the slightest bit of pressure on it right now!

    Sheila had wandered in, cradling the brandy bottle to her chest like a child might cuddle their favourite teddy, and detoured to the bar to pick out a shot glass as she carefully seated herself into the overstuffed recliner – possibly, like Ari, fearing that any sudden movements might have her bursting like a balloon. She had yet to pour herself a glass of the aged liquor, although she was clearly considering it, as she eyed the bottle and then the glass, trying to muster up the energy to lift and pour.

    Bonnie was breathing heavily through her mouth – she felt rather overstimulated and painfully sensitive at the moment, so breathing through her nose had seen her twitching like a rabbit on crack – as she held her belly gently, trying not to move too much, while it twisted and rolled in protest of the work it now had to do to digest the abundant offerings that it had just received. Lying prone, back on the floor, with her bum and thighs pressed up on the front of the sofa and her calves resting on the seat, she was staring up at Caroline, seated on the other cushion of the two-seater lounge, in vague concern as the blonde simply sat there silently, with her stomach doing all of the complaining and grumbling for her as it gurgled and glugged away.

    Caroline didn't even dare to open her mouth, for once, in case she actually threw up! Her surrender to the urge to simply indulge would be worth it, she thought, if only the meal wouldn't end up being wasted if she ended up bringing it straight back up. Sliding down on the cushion, and staring fixedly at the wall, she tried to will herself to pull it together. Listening idly to the music drifting from the stereo, that Ari had switched on by remote as she lay there on the floor – oh, for half her energy, Caroline snorted inwardly – her eyes shot wide as a particularly loud rumble from her stomach presaged a sudden urge to . . . oh, no.  _Hic!_  she whimpered a little, not the hiccups, not now!  _Hic!_  she clamped her mouth shut, as her face went rather pale, the hiccups made her tremble a little, but even a slight amount of movement was enough to have her tummy clench in objection – every time she hiccupped, she was afraid that her gag reflex might finally let her down!

    Suddenly, a dark, long-fingered hand was thrust in front of her face; flinching back, she saw that it was Sheila offering her the glass filled with a small amount of pale amber liquid. "Here, girl, you need this more than I do – put some colour in those cheeks of yours," Sheila claimed, pushing the glass at her even as Caroline tried to shake her head in negation without actually moving – it isn't possible, by the way – not wanting anything else anywhere near her mouth tonight . . . that was how she'd ended up in this mess, to begin with. "Take it, you silly child!" the older lady urged her, fighting off a cheeky grin, knowing exactly what troubled the girl. "Trust me, Caroline, it  _will_ help.

    "It's just to sip, mind you . . .  _slowly_ ," she warned. "Go easy with it, just a bit at a time, and it'll settle your stomach, and warm up your body, get the digestion going . . . might even jam up those hiccups before you end up following through with what your belly's been threatening to do for the last half-hour," Sheila chuckled, then broke off with a wince as her stomach clenched. "Ooh, gotta remember, no laughing, it hurts too much at the moment," she wheezed, bending forward a little to try and ease the strain.

    Caroline relented, taking the glass and staring at the liquid inside dubiously, before tentatively raising it to her lips and taking the barest dribble into her mouth. She didn't swallow, not yet, letting it sit as her tongue tingled and prickled at the feel of the potent spirit. When her tongue went a little numb, she swallowed, feeling the pleasant burn travel down her gullet and hit her stomach which, as promised, seemed to quiet somewhat as the brandy warmed her inside. Reassured, she continued to sip slowly, as her cheeks finally got their peachy glow back, while her restless tummy finally subsided and got to work in digesting her meal.

    The final strains of  _John Legend'_ s _All Of Me_  had faded out as  _Aerosmith_  replaced it, the lead vocalist crooning out the lyrics to the rock ballad as he insisted that he didn't want to miss out on spending every moment that he possibly could with his loved one, when Caroline polished off the remaining spirit, handing the glass back to Sheila and standing up creakily, wincing in discomfort, and feeling like a little old lady – sorry, Nanna, but it's true – as she hobbled over to the bar and grabbed three more glasses. She brought them over to Sheila, holding them out one at a time for her to pour, as she swayed slightly in rhythm to the beat.

    With all the glasses filled, she slowly went to her knees, careful not to spill as she knee-walked to Bonnie to place her glass next to her hand as Bonnie groaned something that vaguely resembled a thank-you. Smirking a little, she quickly made her way over to sit by Ari, handing her a glass and clinking her own against it in a small toast as Ari struggled up onto her elbows, and saluted the room with the shot. "Here's to excess; the glorious, gluttonous bitch that she is!" throwing back the alcohol with one smooth toss, before succumbing to a coughing fit, as the heady liquor seared her oesophagus all the way down to the pit of her belly, where she felt the familiar flood of heat. Falling back gracelessly, she panted hoarsely, as she waited for her vocal cords to recover from the shock while she heard Sheila cackling and slapping her thigh in hilarity, and Caroline and Bonnie just stared, before deciding not to follow suit – sipping was just fine with them, thank you very much.

    "So," Ari's contemplative tone caught their attention as she continued to stare up at the ceiling vacantly, "It might be too soon to ask after our meal, but, who's up for taking a few bowls home for leftovers?" Bonnie cringed – it was a bit too soon for her – as Caroline pursed her lips and thought about it, while Sheila just fell back against the cushions and rolled her eyes at the very idea of thinking about food, just yet.

    "I'm in," Caroline decided. "But not yet, 'cause if I so much as look at a crumb right now – well, it won't be pretty," she warned with a healthy swallow of brandy, wincing at the fierce burn.

    Ari sniggered softly, lacing her fingers together as they settled on her chest, and snuggled deeper into the rug as she finally felt halfway human again. "Thought I'd get the offer out there, before I forgot," was the justification, while she started to hum along with the music as they all slowly recovered from their epicurean bender.

**'. . . You call me lover**   
**And tell me I'm your life**   
**I won't run for cover**   
**I've shown you who I am**   
**And in the darkest night**

**You touch my hand**   
**I live for you**   
**Because your eyes**   
**They understand**   
**I live for you**   
**In my life**   
**You come through . . .'**

* * *

    Ari closed her eyes to block out the room, as Sheila set the last set of candles in place around the circle. Flat on her back in the centre of the chalked outline, she exhaled slowly and deliberately, emptying her lungs, before inhaling steadily and taking in as much air as possible, and held it for a brief count before releasing it and beginning the cycle over again. She could feel it, the slight buzzing, the faint tension in the air as the Comet appeared along the horizon – it couldn't be seen within the city limits, only if you were camping out to the western side of town at a higher elevation would you be able to catch a glimpse – she didn't need her eyes to See it, the power was throbbing through her like a heartbeat, steady and powerful, as her skin tingled from the energy brushing against her.

    Bonnie and Caroline had left, over an hour ago, rushing out amidst apologies and appreciation as they thanked Ari for inviting them, while Caroline babbled about preparations for the festival tomorrow meaning a 5am wake-up call because she was the head of the Committee in charge of setting everything up. Before they left, Ari had opened their gift and gushed and ooh-ed and aah-ed over the pretty crystal figurine in the shape of an angel – an angel with a difference, though – wings flared as she straddled a massive Harley, and her short hair styled in a semi-Mohawk, with chains winding around her slender, elfin form, and brass knuckles on the delicate fingers gripping the handlebars, one eye closed in a mischievous wink as she peered at the world through a wayward tuft of crystalline hair hanging over her face.

    Apparently, it had made the two think of Ari when they saw it displayed in a little, out-of-the-way, antique shop off the main street of Mystic Falls . . . well, if it made them happy to think so, Ari had shrugged blithely.

    Once they had waved them off from the driveway, Ari and Sheila went back inside to get ready; Ari used the bathroom first, while Sheila started clearing a space in the parlour and setting up all the tools and instruments that they would need, as Ari scrubbed herself as clean as she could before slipping into the simple cotton robe that was she would wear during the rite. They swapped places once she was finished, as Sheila went through the ritual cleansing, and Ari etched the circle, chanting softly as she went. Runes of gathering, of focus, of balance, were quickly marked within and around the circle as she spoke the names clearly, letting a little bit of her Magic flow through her and into the symbols to charge them.

    Maarit, having no real interest in the proceedings, had already gone to bed, curling up in her warm, cosy bed in her own private room in the house.

    Looking up at the soft  _swish_  of fabric against skin, she smiled at Sheila as she stood in the doorway – they were ready . . .

* * *

    As the radiance finally faded, leaving only darkness lit by flashing dots of colour wheeling across the thin skin of her eyelids, Sheila reeled a little – Lord in Heaven! Her mind raced, wondering if the brightness had died away because the light was actually gone, or if she'd been struck blind, even with her eyes closed, by the sheer intensity of the illumination conjured up by the Spell . . . either way, she mused, it wouldn't matter if she risked opening her eyes – if the light had ebbed, she was safe, if she was blind, then she wouldn't be able to see it anyhow.

    Cracking one eye open in a tentative slit, she rapidly blinked both open and breathed a sigh of relief – she wasn't blind, after all! Praise the Lord. Peering down, she met Ari's eyes as the younger woman stared back in disbelief, unable to comprehend what had just happened – were they supposed to get that sort of reaction, the tawny eyes asked her mutely. Did we do something wrong? She petted her hair soothingly, as they both stayed in the positions they'd assumed for the rite; Ari's head cradled in Sheila's lap as they chanted repetitively, invoking the power that they sought, blessing the arrival of the Comet, and offering their solemn vow to use the harvested Magic wisely.

    Finally, with stiffness setting in from staying still for a long while, they made to stand, Sheila swaying giddily as she put her hand up to her forehead and giggled like a girl. Ari reached out to steady her, snorting with laughter at the sparkling eyes as Sheila did a little jig, exhilarated, and slightly dizzy, as they toddled into the kitchen. "Whoa, Miss Sheila!" the young woman chuckled, keeping her grip as they made their way over to the dining island so that she could settle Sheila on a stool while she made coffee – not that she thought Sheila needed any, right now! "Are you okay?" she asked as Sheila bounced in her seat, hyper and excited like a kid at Christmas.

    "Miss Ari," she announced grandly, "I do declare that I haven't felt this good in years! Why," she bobbed her eyebrows suggestively as Ari pursed her lips, waiting for it, "If I were only twenty years younger, I'd be prancing into the closest bar I could find, looking for a strapping, handsome young man to take me home and work off all of this mad energy," she cracked, sniggering madly as Ari just shook her head with a helpless grin.

    "You're certainly one of a kind, Miss Sheila," she murmured, pouring the boiling water into the cup and stirring briskly to mix the coffee. "Here you go," handing it over, and turning to her own mug for her preferred evening drink – hot cocoa! "Sheila," her pensive tone had the older woman looking at her sharply over the bench as Ari fiddled with her mug, "If that's how much Power we gained just from tonight . . ."

    ". . . What happens tomorrow night when the Comet is directly over town?" Sheila finished for her, sipping at her hot drink as Ari nodded. "Well, that's why we didn't do all of this tomorrow night!" Sheila declared with a small smile as Ari shuddered at the thought. "Don't worry, girlie," she advised sagely, "The process is two parts – all of this formal, dressed-up Witchy woo-woo here, tonight, all of that was simply to get the ball rolling – this was us saying we're ready, we embrace the approach of this Celestial Omen, and we will open our hearts and minds to all that follows such an event. Tomorrow – tomorrow is the final act, the best thing for you to do for yourself is to be in the middle of the Town Square, alongside of everyone else, where you'll be able to see, and feel, the Comet at its peak.

    "You don't need any special words or incantations or sigils for that, because it's already done. You're already open – all you gotta do is welcome it into you." They sat there in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts, before Sheila finally grunted in annoyance. Ari's eyebrow arched as she stared at her in mute question. The elder snorted in disgust. "You ain't gonna like this –  _I_  don't like it – but if I don't ask, they're gonna be pestering me about it forever and a day," she muttered, grimacing when Ari only looked more confused than before. "The Spirits, girlie, the Ancestors who've passed the Veil . . . they've had a bee in their bonnets over you for the past few days."

    Ari leaned back on her stool as she mulled it over in her head – nope, still didn't make a damned bit of sense to her. "In regards to . . . ?" she inquired casually, blowing on her cocoa before sipping it as she eyed Sheila over the rim, as the woman threw her hands up in the air.

    "That's what I'd like to know!" pounding her fist lightly on the bench as she glared around her suspiciously, like she was expecting to see something, or hear something. "They bein' all tight-lipped and quiet 'bout it, except the part where they all yellin' and cursin' about you, and how you supposed to be a protector and a Guardian, not a traitor and a thief!"

    Ari's face paled as if she'd been slapped, before she straightened slowly in her chair, eyes cold and her features hard and set as she stared grimly at Sheila. "Those are some pretty strong words for a buncha dead-and-gone  _bitches_  to get up the moxie to say to me," biting out the words from between clenched teeth as Sheila shrivelled in her chair – she wasn't afraid of this girl, not by a long shot, but damned if she wasn't ashamed and humiliated on behalf of all those foolish witches who were trying to berate the Innate Witch through her! "I don't care to be called names by a crowd of narrow-minded, moralising windbags who don't have the good sense to know when they should keep their long, sticky noses outta other people's business, and keep their damned opinions to themselves 'cause no one wants to hear about it," Ari ranted, pounding her own fist on the counter in punctuation of her statement, much as Sheila had previously.

    Sheila sighed, rubbing at her forehead with her hand. "You're preaching to the choir," she muttered, still glaring around the room as she heard the ghostly whispers in the air, indignant murmuring and heated arguments between the unseen Spirits over being berated in turn by the Angry young Witch – something that they clearly weren't used to; the Ancestors held a great deal of influence amongst the living servants of Nature . . . if thwarted, their anger and spite could cost a witch their power, could cause havoc if their fury manifested in the physical realm, glass shattering, localised dust- and wind-storms, plants suddenly withering and dying for no visible reason, were just a few of the examples, and some of the milder ones, too.

    "Sheila, do you know how many times I have been moved to apologise; I mean, really, truly, sincerely, apologise, to anyone for anything that I have either said, or done, that has caused harm to somebody that did not deserve it?" Ari queried calmly – a bit too calmly, Sheila thought, seeing the banked fury burning brightly in the depths of those fierce eyes. She chose the wisest course for the moment, not speaking, as she simply shook her head in the negative and waited. Ari didn't answer, either, not in words. Silently, she held up her hand, waggling her fingers in demonstration of her point.

    Sheila hummed noncommittally, and shuddered inwardly, as a coldly contemptuous smile twisted Ari's mouth as she leaned forward, her eyes piercing into Sheila's as if she spoke, not to the elder woman sitting before her, but to the Spirits who were not so brave as to face her head on, choosing instead to use this witch as their medium, to chide by proxy – no, thank you! "So, what is it that makes you believe that some sanctimonious horde of nonentities, a faceless swarm of empty space, a gathering of dead magical beings, whose bodies probably turned to dust long before my grandfather was even born, will ever intimidate me?

    "Could ever cow me, coerce me, into offering some kind of weak-willed, trembling and wide-eyed apology for unnamed sins, possible trespasses, grievous misconduct – according to all of  _you_  – when  _I_  see no reason to do so?" she shrugged indolently, leaning back in her chair and lounging there with a cruel smirk curling her lips. "Something that you seem to forget, when you get all up yourselves like this, is that I don't answer to you – no Innate has ever, or will ever, answer to any of you; a band of misbegotten wretches that should have passed over a long time ago, instead of hanging around in this pathetic semblance of Unlife and meddling with things, with  _people_ , that you have no business interfering with – your time is long-passed, it ended when you left this world . . . a world made for the living, not for the dead," she declared, her eyes direct and uncompromising as Sheila's eyes flickered and darted around the room, as the hissing and grumbling broke out once more, trying to make out what they were saying.

    "They say that you're a hypocrite," she murmured, wrinkling her nose as Ari rolled her eyes.

    "And here we go with the insults," she snorted disdainfully, "Without explanation – again!"

    Holding up a hand, Sheila listened – this could be it – maybe having Ari giving them a solid rebuke for their unwanted interference was the push the Ancestors needed to spell out their issues with her. Closing her eyes, she focussed, getting as much information as she possibly could before the link broke, and the Spirits were gone. Opening her eyes, she leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table as she made sure that she had it all straight in her head before she began. "The whispers, the first time that I noticed anything, came on Monday . . . I'm guessing that they got their noses outta joint when you saw Stefan – and didn't immediately start setting him on fire, or pointing and screaming 'Vampire' in the middle of the classroom!

    "Witches and vampires gettin' along, bein' friendly, that's a big no-no as far as they're concerned. And to be honest," she huffed out a breath as she gazed at Ari seriously, "I don't necessarily disagree with that," holding up a hand again as Ari narrowed her eyes. "It's got nothin' to do with Stefan personally – I'm worried for  _you_ , Ari – when witches start getting involved in their world, bad things can happen . . . I've seen it, I've been where you are, thinking that maybe some of them aren't so bad, it can't be a bad thing to make friends, or allies out of a few, help 'em out from time to time," she shrugged helplessly. "I got in too deep – got burned – nearly lost everything that was important to me in the fallout.

    "I'm guessing that's their reasoning behind considering you a traitor to all Witches – Innate or otherwise – and a Guardian, seeing as they feel that the witches are s'posed to be a kinda shield between vampires and humans, keeping 'em from getting too far inside each other's world.

    "Now, as for the thievin', just remember," pointing her finger at the girl as she muttered direly at the thought of hearing anything worse than the utter bollocks she'd already been treated to, "Don' kill the messenger – apparently, all of that has to do with how the Innates all call you the Chosen One, the Saviour," breaking off as Ari moaned in disgust, rolling her head over the back of her stool and staring at the ceiling above her incredulously. "Yeah, well, like I said, I'm just the messenger," Sheila muttered, indulging in a little eye-rolling of her own – for God's sake, hadn't the poor child given enough to the world already? A war had been fought in the shadows, cloaked from the wider world, a war based on bigotry and hatred founded on the principles of Magic itself – those who had it, and those who didn't, and there were those that believed that they had the right to wield it in any matter that they wished to, regardless of the harm it may cause others, just because they could . . . who was going to stop them?

    Apparently, it fell to this young woman, along with her allies, to do just that. In the face of immense odds, fighting against merciless, brutal opponents who had no limits as to how far they would go to strike at those who dared to meet them in combat, to act in defence of others, to protect and care for those that the Dark Innates considered unworthy and undeserving of such. In the end, they stood triumphant, Arielle Potter and her group of ragged, valiant defenders – but at a terrible cost. The death toll, of Magicals and Mundanes alike, stood in the tens of thousands, a horrific price to be paid for peace.

    "Anyhow," she shook herself out of the grim musings, "They seem to have this idea that Innates were never meant to count such a person amongst their number – such proclamations and honours of being a Symbol of Great Power and Reverence rightfully belongs to the servants of Nature – only the _real_  witches deserve to wield that kind of power," she summarised briskly, keeping a straight face with great effort, while Ari eyed her blankly, before they both burst out in hysterical whoops of laughter. The tension in the room cleared away as they cackled and rolled gleefully, letting it roll off of their backs – who the hell cared what a bunch of manipulative, domineering drama queen Ghosts had to say about anything? Didn't they have anything better to do than gossip and bitch amongst themselves, and badger the living – who really  _did_  have more important things to be getting on with!

* * *

    Ari curled up under her blanket, shivering at the slight chill in the air – Caroline had been right; the nights  _were_  chilly here in the autumn.

    The crazed adrenaline rush had finally worn off from the rite, and Sheila had looked downright haggard, even with the chemical boost from countless cup of coffee – concerned, Ari had offered her guest-room for the night, stating that she wasn't comfortable letting Sheila drive home so late with a mixture of alcohol, caffeine, and overexertion to potentially dull her reflexes. Sheila accepted, and sank into the plush, comfy double-bed with a happy sigh, more than ready to get some rest.

    Eyes closing, Ari was drifting lightly, a smile curling her lips as she snuggled deeper into the blankets . . . when a sudden burst of sound erupted in the room. Shooting upright, she looked around wildly – where the hell did she put it? It wasn't her alarm – she knew that sound! Hopping up, she thought rapidly, eyes snapping over the tallboy . . . second drawer from the top. Well, well, well – finally, it seemed that she was about to get some answers. Maarit suddenly came pelting through the door, jumping onto the bed as she mewed excitedly, bobbing her head impatiently, like she was urging Ari to grab the stupid thing, and answer it, already!

    Digging through the drawer, she lifted up a top to find – yeah, there it was. And only one person was set for that particular chime, so she knew exactly who was calling – probably the only person who was even close to having all the answers; she was also the one person that it was nearly impossible to get a straight answer from . . . it had always been that way.

**'. . . We were walking - we were talking**   
**We were laughing about the state of our lives**   
**How our fates brought us together**   
**As the moon was rising in your eyes**

**On and on the night was falling**  
**Deep down inside us**  
**On and on a light was shining right through . . .'**

    Tapping the mirror, and calling the name softly, to activate the connection, she waited patiently until the mirror glazed over to show, not her own face, but that of one of her oldest friends. Smiling coolly, she remarked, "Well, this is a surprise. I mean, seeing as everybody else seemed to fall off of the face of the earth three days ago," lifting her eyebrows in demand for information as the serene blue eyes simply gazed back at her calmly, unfazed by her haughty demeanour.

    Ari slumped back against her pillows in defeat as the tranquil voice greeted her, "Hello, Arielle Potter, how are you this evening?" supremely nonchalant at the annoyance clearly visible in the tawny eyes as they awaited a reply. Plonking the mirror down on the bed, facedown, for a moment, Ari indulged herself in a brief outburst, punching her pillow fiercely as she screamed violently, face buried in her doona, before she got up and fluffed her pillow back into shape, sticking it behind her back as a rest, as she settled herself against the headboard. Calmer now, she picked up the mirror again and smiled at her friend.

    "Hello, darling . . . I don't suppose you're going to be nice to me tonight, and actually tell me precisely what sort of fresh hell you've managed to land me in the middle of . . . ?" trailing off with a toothy grin, as her eyes promised that there had better be some kind of explanation, or else! Magically cursed, or not, she had few qualms in packing everything up, and getting out of here while the getting was good, if she didn't receive a compelling enough reason to bother staying . . .

    Picking up on the subtext, the person on the other end of the Enchanted device huffed out in a moment of rare exasperation, before smoothing out their expression to their usual, unruffled countenance. "We shall See what is to be Seen . . ." was the quiet murmur, a mysterious, sphinxlike smile crossing their face as Ari rolled her eyes and snorted inelegantly at the predictable response.

    "Yeah, right!" wiggling her back into a more comfortable position as she slouched with her eyes half-closed – the relaxed, casual posture was deceptive – her mind was clear and sharp, waiting to hear everything, make note of all that her contact would offer her . . . the information that she required would be there, she just had to Listen . . . her years of experience in watching how this particular pal interacted with the world warned her – this was going to be a test of her Will, her patience, and her resolve. Who would blink first?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 2: Riddle, anyone? Who is she talking to? I'll give you a hint - that ringtone says it all, so if you can pick the lyrics, you'll know exactly who it is . . . go on, have a guess ;)
> 
> I hope you liked it . . . let me know, either way. Oh, also, I don't mean to offend anyone with all of the religious references in this chapter - I'm not a Christian . . . actually, I don't subscribe to any form of organised religion at all . . . which doesn't mean that I don't believe, by any means. I'm just pointing out that these characters have had religious backgrounds - I would imagine that Stefan and Damon, at least, raised in the South, would have been expected to attend church on a regular basis, so Damon would probably use terms like that from sheer force of habit, formed from a young age. That is my only intention - but I do apologise if anyone was upset by it :(
> 
> Song in Chapter (not the mystery one)
> 
> I Live For You - Chynna Phillips

**Author's Note:**

> So . . . good? Bad? Ugly? Please let me know what you think, your thoughts on what I'm writing matter to me - if I'm not doing a good job, tell me. If you like it, I definitely wanna hear it! Cheers, people :D


End file.
